Travel west....

{if ReyRumor = 1
}

Under construction! {else
}

{if Time <1000
}The morning sun is throwing obscuring shadows over the rocky terrain in front of you. You {elseif Time > 1600
}The late afternoon sun sends long shadows towards you from the rocky outcrops as you approach them. You {else
}Despite the ample light and calm air, you {endif
}have the uneasy feeling of being watched as you proceed down the road between the forbidding terrain features. Sure enough, as you pass between the rocks, figures suddenly appear above you: three archers with arrows nocked. You freeze, gripping {if Ashen Spear = 1
}{if Corruption >40}the haft of your spear {elseif Silver Bow = 1
}your silver bow and nocking an arrow of your own. {else
}the hilt of your sword and drawing in an instant. {endif
}{elseif Silver Bow = 1
}your Silver Bow and nocking and arrow of your own. {else
}the hilt of your sword and drawing in an instant. {endif
}{endif
}

As you look from one bandit to the other, a figure steps into the roadway in front of you. Bigger than the others, and barefaced where they are masked and hooded, he cleans his fingernails nonchalantly with a dagger as he saunters towards you. His dark hair is lustrous and long, and his face is graced with dark stubble, and his clothing strains over corded muscle. The hilt of a sword sticks up over his shoulder.
"Good day, fair maid." His tone is incongruously light. "These are dangerous times to be traveling alone in the Lands."
"I think you'll find I can defend myself." You return, trying to fix him with a confident gaze. Inside, fear has your stomach in knots. The odds are not in your favor in a fight.
"Truly, you seem quite formidable." His laugh is clearly mocking. "But even a fearsome warrior such as yourself could be overcome if enemies came in numbers..." he very pointedly did not look at his compatriots. "Which is why my men and I patrol the road in these parts. To keep travelers like yourself safe. I am Reynauld. My friends call me Rey."
"I see." You nod. This is clearly a fiction, but you don't see any need to argue. "Do you bar my path, Reynauld?" We are not friends.
"Well, my lady. Defending the people is hungry work. My men and I need to eat, and to afford our diversions to keep us satisfied." He smiles. "We ask but a pittance, a small taxation.... say...." he looks you over, noting the fine cut of your cloak and craftsmanship of your armor. "50 gold pieces."
You grit your teeth. "That is a dear passage."
"This is your first time passing this way, is it not?" He steps closer. "This toll will grant you our protection in perpetuity." He seems quite learned for a highwayman.
{if Gold <50
}You don't have 50 gold to pay him. {endif
}