After what had felt like much too long, you had finally reached shelter, a small collection of tents called the Black Raisin Village. Of course, the villagers had stopped you, bringing you to their leader, Black Raisin.

“Outsider!” She greeted you harshly, holding something wrapped in brown paper in her hand. “There isn’t much to eat here, so we test everyone who seeks shelter to see if they’re a picky eater. Picky eaters are not welcome.” She said, making sure as hell you knew. She hands over the wrapped object, and you unwrap it, revealing a perfectly cooked raisin bun.