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.”
((Drakuzad looks at the crone, a glint of surprise flashing in his eyes before he sits down. "My name is Drakuzad, old woman. But of course it seems you may have known that already....I'm searching for where I belong in this world, traveling from town to town until someplace sticks. Until that day comes, I am a Mercenary for hire...though my silver tongue has gotten me out of a lot of situations when more 'tact' was required."))
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