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?))
Giraudus would take a seat, "I'm nothing more than an adventurer, I come here to find an ingredient for a potion." The man would shift a bit in his seat as he looked around the room, a bit skeptical. "It's a rare plant that is said to only grow around these parts, or so I heard. Its said to glow like the sun... and shine like holy light with roots so thick not even the toughest of men cant rip it from the ground." The man would dig through his satchel, pulling out a pair of gloves. "I'd like to test that theory however!" He spoke as he leaned back in his chair a bit, putting away the gloves. "If I cannot find this herb, I'll explore and find some sort of substitute." He paused for a moment. "I haven't ever been the one to make potions unlike my family before me who were all alchemist and of the nature. I wish I learned more from them because now I need this potion for someone who is very close to me and if I don't hurry they might not make it."
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