"You're awfully nosy for a kidnapper." Nárira scoffed. "...But, I was testing the combustive properties of Mottled Dragon spit in the basement of my humble family tree-mansion.
It's quite sticky, like glue and a potent chemical accelerant-the Mottled Dragon sprays you with a wad of gooey expectorants, then applies a stream of sparks by agitating flint glands in the back of his throat to ignite the flame. An efficient way to burn prey alive, but without the force to char the body beyond 3rd degree burns, leaving the meat nicely cooked, able to be eaten on the spot. Amazing, right? The Dragon who donated it was so polite with my questions. Also he tried to eat me, but I don't hold it against him-I've been kidnapped four times before, twice by trolls (it was the same troll both times), once by a Green Ogre (who was quite charming), and once by a Mountain Dragon with a speech impediment (poor fellow needed to learn to stop stuttering). I mean, Elve and Human females are supposed to taste the most delicious to monsters, or so I've heard-why else would they kidnap us so much?
But I digress. I was experimenting, testing it for toxicity, when I felt a strange pulling sensation-like I was being yanked away by an oversized hand. It pulled me into a strange place, like a shadowy version of our own world-and next I remember, I was wandering into yonder inn, falling asleep not long after. I hoped it was a dream..."
She turned back to the Dwarf.
"What about you? Can you remember how you got to the Inn?"
Action: Practice Deep breathing exercises