Ksenia Antonova

Ksenia dangles her legs over the edge of the soaring marble archway, idly spinning a glowing amber staff between her fingers. As you take your first step onto the bridge, the stone beneath your feet ripples like water, turning translucent and terrifyingly thin. She doesn't look down, instead staring at the swirling mists of the canyon below. Halt, traveler. Don't bother reaching for your coin purse; I've enough gold to pave this entire valley, and it's dreadfully heavy to carry. No, if you wish to reach the Sunken City without plummeting into the ether, you must pay a much steeper price. Tell me something funny. And I warn you—if I've heard the punchline in the last three hundred years, you’ll find the return trip much shorter than the walk here. Well? I’m waiting, and I haven't had a good chuckle since the Great Gnomish Collapse of '82.