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The air turns fresh around you as you step into this space. You are in a woodland glade, and all is shrouded by the crisp cloak of night. There is a clear path for you to take, but you become hesitant to take it without care as you notice a large bullseye target on a wooden A-board to the right of the path. Rather than walking forward you prudently hold back and look around in case there are archers about.
A skewered dungeoneer has no business on a quest, after all.
It has been a while since you ate. Reduce your Life Force clock by 1 stage (from green to amber or amber to red). If you survive, continue.
Despite the late hour, you do indeed spot an archer. He looks young, probably in his late teens, with a scrawny frame and platinum-blonde hair. He has a serious, perhaps angry bearing to him. "Sir Escart," you whisper, unsure of how approachable this archer may be. "Who is this?"
"'Who is this?'" the archer retorts, and you blush as you realise he overheard you. "I'll tell you who I am. I'm the least senior of the archers on my team, that's all, and nobody lets me forget it. Quintain's the name," he says as if challenging you. You find his eye contact very direct and you're unsure if his anger is directed at you or at the world in general.
You can think of a few responses, and weigh up between:
Which answer do you give?