Watching you from a pylon stands a menacing sight- a figure clad in a ragged black cloak, hunched over but clearly incredibly tall, with a skull mask and bony arms. You get the feeling if he wanted you dead, you would be already. instead, he leaps down to be at your level.

I am Hassan of the Cursed Arm, of the nineteen Hassans. I come from shadows, to you. Do not be afraid, for I come bearing no ill will, simply idle conversation. However, if you do show a hint of hostility, you will not know you are dead.