On the floor of the hut, lying among eggshells, an old lizardfolk is pressing his hand against a festering wou

On the floor of the hut, lying among eggshells, an old lizardfolk is pressing his hand against a festering wound. Raising his head with great effort, he stares at you. "Dryskin? No, I see truth... Ashshas-ta-ha... I been waiting for you, yes..."