You walk along a stretch of sand and are startled by the sight of a disheveled-looking man, apparently a mariner of some sort, sitting near the water, slumped over with his head in his hands in a posture of abject despair. When he lifts he head, his eyes go wide, equally surprised to see you. He stands to his feet and his hand touches his pistol, unsure what to make of your presence. I must be goin’ mad! Be ye real or a spirit?!
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