They Aren't Blind, They're Just Wearing Shades
Over a hill from Whitey's Grove, you encounter two guys in matching dark suits and sunglasses, leaning against an old police cruiser parked at the side of the road. The taller one is practicing a blues riff on his harmonica, and the fatter one is lighting a cigarette. "Excuse me," you say as you approach them. "Are you the police?"
The fat one takes a drag on his cigarette, looks you up and down, and shakes his head. "No <ma'am/sir>. We're musicians."
"I see. Well, maybe you can tell me -- is this the road to the White Citadel?"
"Are you on a mission from God too?"
You think back to the guy from your guild. "I am on a mission, but I sure as hell hope the guy who gave it to me doesn't turn out to be God. Yikes."
"Well, you're on the right track. White Citadel's a couple miles that way." He gestures down the road with his thumb.
The tall one lowers his harmonica, says "Don't leave the path," then resumes playing. The fat one nods. "Yeah, stick to the road. Lotta bad stuff in these woods."
"Like what?" you ask. "Cops? Nazis? ...Ex-fiancèes?"
"Worse."
"Wow. Okay, thanks for the warning." You give them a wave as you start down the road, and after about ten yards you take a sharp turn and step directly off the road and into the woods.
I mean, when someone gives you a warning like that, you know it's bound to happen eventually. Might as well get it over with right away.
Occurs at The Road to the White Citadel.
References
- An obvious nod to The Blues Brothers.
