Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
*Urgbak's large frame bends down, gripping the top of the tent for stability as he enters, nearly tearing off the fabric. The orc growls as he plops down on the cushion with a thud.*
"Me, Urgbak? Mm... I was born in the blood and fire of Lurak, my 'ome." *He cracks his neck and fingers before continuing* "Simple life. Grew up a 'unter, trained by the Cap'n 'imself." *He clears his throat in one guttural growl.* "Mistake. Ghashul picked the wrong fight, me 'unting buddies were torn limb by limb from thirty somethin' devilish wolves... Was the only one left."
"Cap'n Mogtuz sent me 'ere, told me there was some battlin' to be done, some ripe flesh even. What does it concern you 'nyway?"
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