The person had the power to predict the future. Sadly, it usually only worked when it was predicting disasters. Yet, each time they warned a village, or city, or kingdom of it, they were usually laughed at and told to go away. Only to be blamed when the disaster struck. Why won't people listen? It always broke their heart. -- Anon Guest
Cassandra Syndrome: The condition of exact prognostication, with the inherent curse of not being believed about it. -- The Multiversal Encyclopedia of Baffling Blessings and Curses.
Wandering beggars generally wander for a reason. Some, like the Hellkin, are routinely driven out of places where they once had succour. Some are oathbound to walk in search of things to mend. Some seek fortune. Some seek luck. Some are harried. Some are mad. One... sees the future. Accurately.
What Madsen Darsk was seeking was one place that was not doomed in one way or another. Or, failing that, a fucking cure for having imbibed an entire bottle of a vile beverage called Green Mist. It was a part of her tragic backstory that some idiot who assaulted her poured the smoky green beverage down her throat and it was swallow or die. Now she could see what was going to happen. Anywhere.
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