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?))
"If you know who I am you will already know my story." He answered annoyed. "But if you really want to hear it from me, I'll give you a summary." "I was living quietly in the mountains at (according to where the mountains are in relation to the city) with my people in our keep, I was a guard. Then came the orcs, they like to live in our keeps too. An endless crowd. NOT we managed to defend our home and so we had to leave it." A break. "The rest you can imagine."
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