Keda returns his annulat to its clip and steps from the undergrowth.

"Greetings Warklegnaw, I am Keda Frost Moon, and I offer you the Trade Peace. What I offer for trade is my Words."

Keda walks over and crouches by the fire. "You have been given a great gift, Warklegnaw," he says, watching the fat from the roasting rothe drip into the flames. "You are dying. In my Home, the Ever-Changing, death comes suddenly... crushed by stone, burned by fire, encased in ice, flayed by howling winds, drowned in magma, mud, sand, or acid, killed by slaadi, demons, or oshac... while all lives are given meaning, most deaths are without meaning."

He looks up and stares Warklegnaw in the face. "But to know your time is coming and to have the chance to choose a death with meaning? Truly, you are to be envied! So what do you choose to do with your gift, Warklegnaw? What meaning will you give your death?"