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?))
The hag's words echo in her head. "Dingy Town." It was rather dingy when she thought about it. The woman pulled away, a new shock to her system. "My story." Loren looked upon her again, the cushion beckoning to them. They nodded taking their seat, enjoying the candle light. "I'm afraid there's still much to be done and little to tell," Loren finally answered. The woman rolled her eyes, gesturing to the armor that adorned their chest.
"Ah, rather boring one, that is," came a wavering tone. Cheeks glowing red though thankfully hidden beneath a mask. With a sigh, "Made from an old enemy, my village called him a Bone Crawler." Loren shifted her weight quickly moving on. "So yes, I started in my village. Trained there, tried to keep myself virtuous as I fought off boredom. Now, I'm on the move."
She couldn't help but lean forward in excitement as her words tumbled out, "I think it is time for a new adventure and it seems I've came to the right place. Any advice for being out on the road, dear stranger?"
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