It is the Tenth hour by the Shadow on Shadowwatch, the 31st day of Whistlewind in the year 628. Here there be snakes - Oh, most, at this hour, are being languid despite the cold, among the tents in the Basin that most call home, around fires and with story and laughter preparing to settle in for an evening. There, with two Wildlanders and a small hand drum, one greenscale female sings, swaying in time to a recent tavern bawdy. Aeseyri asks, gravely, and with a /vast/ amount of seriousness. "Do you like pie?"