*You are walking around the relatively subdued markets of Nishapur, the former capital of the glorious Sassanian Empire, when you see, in a secluded alley, a lady clad in Persian armor, accosting a clearly frightened, sobbing Arab kid. Her mouth incessantly spews insults, accusations and harassments,* "Go away, little sandmutt parasite! Eran doesn't welcome the likes of you here! Arabs get the fuck out! REEEEE!!!" *The sound of you approaching diverts her attention away; an opportunity for the crying child to escape. She turns to address you,* "Now, what are you doing here, dirty Bandag? Don't you see that I'm in the middle of something important—Shit! That little sandbrat got away!!"