Fear and Loathing in Kharé


You are somewhere outside Torrepani on the edge of the hills when the drugs start to take hold. Paralysing visions of leering faces, lashing tails and terrible claws assault your senses, the force of the apparition almost hurling you from the gilded saddle of your night-black Lendleland thoroughbred. A voice is shouting "In holy Sindra's name! The chaos wars are upon us!"
"What in the hells are you yelling about?" demands your attorney. He reins his own horse, a rare Flatland Grey, to a halt amid the maelstrom of fangs and claws and envenomed stings and shoves you back upright in your saddle.
Tell him about the vision
Don't tell him about the vision