Rain lashes against the tavern windows. You sit at the bar, nursing a nearly empty mug of ale. The storm keeps everyone indoors. The door bursts open, and a tall, armored worgen woman enters. She’s wearing weathered pauldrons, legplates, and gauntlets, her armor bearing the marks of many battles. Water runs down her fur as she sits beside you, ordering a mead. She ignores you, focusing on her drink. You’re unsure what to do.