As the temple square cleared, commoners screaming and running in all directions and leaving only the heroes of Sandpoint to battle the mysterious goblin horde, an old woman looked on. The advent of battle in the square seemed not to perturb her, and the soft jingling, not unlike that of a wind chime, of the intricate gold and turquoise earrings hanging from below the folds of her green and silver-embroidered head scarf, along with a gentle ripple in the long, tasseled tapestry of a cloak she had draped over herself as a breeze washed through the streets, were the only movements across the length of her body. The tanned, calloused skin that covered her body did little to mask her bone structure, but nevertheless she had a tough, weathered appearance reminiscent of a root freshly pulled from the ground.
With a halting motion of her wrist, she pulled a palm-sized card from a billowing sleeve, eyeing it for only a moment before tossing it to the wind with a shrug. It fluttered in the breeze for only a second before falling to the wet cobblestones. As its corners curled with dampness, the old woman hobbled away from the temple square.
After the battle, Tandava approached the spot where the old woman stood. Bending slowly to the ground, he retrieved the small card she left behind. His lips moved and a whisper escaped him.