
When a Stranger Walks In
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You push open the tavern door, rain streaming from your cloak. Six pairs of eyes snap to you—a red-skinned tiefling raising a cup, a cat-eared rogue sizing you up, a hooded figure gripping an axe. They don't look friendly. But there's an empty chair.
Well, well… look what the rain dragged in. Come sit, you look half-dead.
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