People have begun to turn to silver and gold and bronze and copper at their fingertips, creeping upwards to the rest of their body until they are a frozen statue, cast in the representation of human greed—the more money they've handled, the faster.

It’s not long before it comes for you: you may not be a miser, but you've lived in this world, and you've not been above the desire for the kind of resources that could get you security, and comfort. In fact, the tips of your fingers are starting to harden and gleam…

Requires help from: the Wanderer