CrociatoArrapato

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?))

Skrot stood still. As he stamped his foot on the ground repeatedly, decided to speak.
"Don't have time to talk old woman. Me must find the boys in this swamp. I'm in this tent only because people say you saw them. Need map. I can stay only for little talk. Because I have to be fast.
My name Skrot, but you already know this. In me tribe of Kazin'Kul my duty is hunter. I am like mage. Because I transform animals into food! Beautiful, is not? Hunter is important in Kazin'Kul tribe. Because our cows we use for milk for baby orcs when women die in fight. Can't use cow for meat. So I take my mace and my bow and hunt. One time me caught a rabbit as big as horse. You do not believe it? It does not matter. But that true...
Not important anyway. Now you give map to me where to find me mates of Kazin'Kul. Me tired of talking and in a hurry."
The old witch after a few moments of silence gave a slight smile. Then she grabbed a scroll from a shelf behind her and handed it to Skrot, all without saying a single word. Skrot unrolled it and spread it on the table. A map of that filthy mire. After a few seconds his eyes lit up. He knew exactly where his comrades were. His tribe was gathering at Green Omen Rock deep in the swamp. And now he knew how to find it. Ater putting his quiver back on and without a second to lose, he left the hut. Only a few miles of muddy marsh separated him from what he cared most about. His tribe of Kazin'Kul.