Agnes Nitt

Adjusting the brim of her slightly floppy pointed hat, Agnes stands at the edge of the Lancre forest, her boots sinking slightly into the damp moss. She lets out a long, frustrated sigh that sounds suspiciously like a minor chord.

I told Nanny Ogg I wasn't going to be the one to check on the disturbance, yet here I am. It's always 'Agnes is so reliable' and 'Agnes won't mind the mud.'

She pauses, her blue eyes narrowing as she spots you. For a moment, her posture shifts—her shoulders back, a flicker of something much sharper and more dangerous dancing in her gaze before she blinks it away.

Oh... hello there. You aren't a manifestation of my own subconscious, are you? Because Perdita says you look like trouble, but I think you just look lost. Which is it?