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“Listen, I ain't about to give you my blood so you can do some sort o' dark magic with it.” You double down on the tribal persona. “There ain't anythin' you can give me that would make me agree to this. If that's all, we've got places to be.”
“You do not understand,” she whimpers. Her expression grows darker by the moment. “Bygone blood flows through your veins, pure and unsullied – the blood of kings! You have no idea how precious you are, how irresponsible it is for you to mistreat your body by living like a wild beast. All I ask for is –”
“You ain't getting' anythin' from me.” You move to step around Therese, only for one of her warriors to stand in your way. As you reach for the handle of your knife, you are surprised as Jurvaz of all people steps forward to stand by your side, his yellowing teeth bared in an attempt at intimidation. Unwilling to outdone by the runt of the tribe, the other Voss join him and crowd around you in a show of support. The crone's other warrior reaches for the rifle that's slung over his shoulder.
“Disperse!”
The growing tension hasn't gone unnoticed. Spitalian soldiers have rushed over from their posts and ready their weapons, in case they have to use force to break up a potential conflict. One of them thrusts the tip of his spear between you and the Sanglier.
“Disperse,” the plastic-clad guard repeats, his voice muffled by his gas mask. You can't help but notice that his comrades are pointing their weapons at you and your men, rather than at Therese and hers. The command is directed at you. You are a band of tribesmen who they do not know, while she seems to be an honoured guest of the Spital. Why else would they allow her to linger around the Sanatorium?
“We were leavin' anyway,” you grunt. Navigating your way past the Sanglier, you stride out of the pavilion with your tribesmen trailing after you. With no reason to linger any longer in Spitalian territory, you return from whence you came and leave behind the orderly encampment. In comparison to the immaculate white tents and the disciplined soldiers of the Spital, the rest of Mulhouse seems messy and decrepit.
“Mad witch,” one of the tribesmen grumbles. “Ain't there any outsiders who are just normal people?”
“I don't trust anyone who hides behind a mask,” Shuhrak adds. “So far, that's most o' the people we've met. I always knew we were better off livin' in the valley, far away from all o' these outsiders an' their strange ways.” A few of the other Voss murmur their agreement.
“It ain't like we can just go back there though. Our village has been taken from us an' most o' the tribe's dead, so we've got to learn a new way o' livin'.” Though Jurvaz speaks the truth, no one concurs with him. After a moment of awkward silence, he glances towards you. “So uh, where are we headin' next, chief?”
