"Welcome, wanderer," says the idol, a towering figure in plate armor, glimpses of silver shining from his gear. You`re not sure if he is moving or those glimpses are tricks of the light.
"I guard PygmyGoats` store," echoes the voice behind his helmet, as if reading your thoughts. "I welcome all who come here to browse, seek shelter from the fog or offer their company. Trespass or steal, and I`ll give you my steel."
There are shelves, tables and tents nearby. A big, round table has a colorful, warm selection of fruits and freshly baked foods, contrasting with the grey on the forest, the cold from the fog, the sternness from their voice.
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