You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
"Well, not the greatest of facilities around here, yeah? Your tent is elegant in comparison," I say with a hint of sarcasm. I look around the tent until I make eye contact with the old woman. "Well, I'm Holmgeir, and I've been travelling for a while. It's really rough and rugged terrain a bit up north, that's where I'm from, a small village at the base of a mountain. It's really nice scenery. One day, I remember getting close to the edge of a really steep slope and wondering what the view was like, so I just climbed. I hadn't had any training beforehand, but little old me just climbed all day! I'm new to the whole adventuring thing. I'm not sure what I want to do with my career yet, but I've just been climbing mountains for fun. It helps me sort through my thoughts, you know?"
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