human
You walk to where you find yourself in a dark scene inside a gate with iron manacles, a black marketeer, and guards.
assistant
This customs post is the roughest and least desirable station in the entire Militia, and looking at the guards here, you have no doubt of it. Recruits from the town's most formidable dungeons, a stint in the Militia their ticket to freedom. Weary traders and travelers argue with them about tariffs, and a badly beaten thief and an unconscious black marketeer both dangle from iron manacles against the far wall. You quickly turn and leave, hoping not to catch the eye of a surly guard.