The air around you is oppressive. This swamp, the days spent trudging through it are starting to get to you. How much longer you can go on, you can't say, but thankfully, you see a light pierce through the murky gloaming. An old woman approaches you, her hair unkept, her clothing disheveled but she looks surprisingly clean. Her arms extend toward you, a pair of pajama bottoms hanging from her outstretched hands. "The dicethe dice always decide," she heaves, "Proudly proclaim your worst roll and Tymora will guide your hand. Take her blessing with you." She seems to want to sell you these Dungeons & Dragons bottoms. What do you do?