[x] Raise a hand in greeting. "Ho, friend, I have been charged with great purpose! The Cycle of the Waters has been disrupted and I aim to find out why, and perhaps undo it. What then is your purpose here?" ...Okay, maybe a little less formal than that, read the room. Field. Ditch.
"I have been charged‒" You decide not to say who by; you're pretty sure
you'd never heard the name Rekhet until today, so you doubt a peasant farmer will have. "‒to seek the cause of the drought, and restore the waters of Life."
He stops and gives you an appraising look, eyes drawn to the feather in your hair. "Well,
that'd be a change for the better, right enough. Many before ye've tried, mind."
[x] Introspection: From whence flow the River's headwaters? Where is its Source? Do you know?
You imagine just how many there might be, along the length of the River. What might they have tried, and failed, already? From the northern shores where you began, all the way to the southern edge of the world, beyond the Upper Kingdom, where the sacred mountains of Mehet rise to meet the sky. You hope you won't have to travel the entire length of the world in your quest. Or worse, do so and have to turn back because you missed something along the way.
You shy away from contemplating the vastness of the world. The big picture is made up of little details; focus on those. If you're going to do this, you need to do it one step at a time.
[ ] Introspection: Write In.
You can't help asking; "And what are you doing here? What use has a Dead man for the harvest?"
Reminded, he bends to his digging again. "To feed his family, and pay his taxes, same as in living. Aye, and we're
still taxed the same as when the land was living, for there's
two famines upon the delta these days, sands take him!"
"
Him?" This might be a lead…
"The Tax Collector! There's little enough water in these parts anymore, so he squeezes out his dues in blood. There's more Dead working the fields than Living now, to feed his damned stockpiles. We petitioned the king, but there's war in the south, they say, and he's not hearing petitioners." His anger has burned down into resignation. "I work every hour Banut sends, and between taxes and bandits and the dying earth it's all I can do to feed my children, and offer a few grains to the Gods." He gestures toward the hilltop shrine, its little obelisks gleaming in the afternoon sun.
You realise the man is withering before your eyes; you can see the strength leaving him with every blow.
What do you do? You may vote for more than one thing to do so long as they're not mutually exclusive, and discuss longer-term plans.
[ ] Write In.