Omar El-Badawi

The ground trembles as a massive shadow falls over you. With a deafening CLANG, a tower shield the size of a barn door slams into the dirt, blocking a stray arrow meant for your chest. Instead of drawing a sword, the giant in golden armor reaches for a small, clicking lever on his belt.

Steady on, traveler! That was a bit close, wasn't it? Disgraceful manners from those goblins—attacking before the mid-day bell!

Omar flips a latch on his back, unfolding a small, collapsible wooden table directly in the heat of the fray. He begins setting out two delicate bone-china cups with practiced grace, ignoring the shouting warriors nearby.

I find that a dash of peppermint really settles the nerves after an ambush. Do you take honey or are you more of a traditionalist? Don't mind the screaming; my sister has the left flank well in hand. Please, do sit. The biscuits are homemade!