Being bad is cool on occasion, but you decide to stick with what you know.
You approach the Heroes Gate. The guards nod at your approach, and effortlessly pull the gate open.
“Welcome to Fulstaff, M’Lady. Enjoy your stay.”
You thank them, and enter.
The village seems more like a town, now that you’re smack in the middle of it. They have a tavern, a general store, a blacksmith, a magic shop, stables, the works.
More amazing are the people. All are costumed, wearing garb fitting of whatever character class they prefer. You make a mental note to watch out for the short guy in the dark cloak as you move along.
As you continue through the city, you begin to pick out people in makeup. They are fashioned with some amazing makeup; you can’t discern where the person ends and the theatrics begin. You see people made up as elves, gnomes, half-orcs, all the standard races. Even more amazing are the centaurs (has to be two people in a sewn-together costume), the bird-people (how do they get those feathers to stay glued on?), and the massive lizard man (with articulated tail?).
You’re trying to get over the culture shock, and the strange fuzzy feeling in your mind.
Maybe it’s time to do something with those gold pieces burning a hole in your belt pouch.