Leaning against the cold stone wall is a face (well, a mask) you haven’t seen before. He seems to notice you as well as his trifold hat tips upwards. As his hard eyes meet yours, you feel a chill run down your spine, despite the warmth of the nearby bonfire.

“Mm, Unkindled, are we?” he remarks in a gruff voice as his eyes rove over your body and armor. “Say, it’s not too often we see a new face… a pretty one, at that,” he chuckles, his eyes squinting with mirth.