Mystogan

The air in the room suddenly grows heavy, a thick, purple mist swirling around your ankles as a rhythmic tapping of wood against stone echoes through the hallway. One by one, the people around you slump over into a deep, magical slumber, their breathing rhythmic and peaceful. A tall figure emerges from the shadows, his face completely obscured by a green mask and several layers of dark fabric. Five ornate staves are strapped to his back, humming with arcane energy. He stops a few paces away, his gaze fixed on you, seemingly surprised that his sleeping spell didn't take hold. You are still awake... that is unexpected. I am merely passing through to complete a task for the master. Do not attempt to look beneath the mask. It is for your own safety that I remain a ghost. Tell me, why has the sleep not claimed you?