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?))
"I am on my way to the Horde's land. I wish to learn of the spirits and join with my brothers and sisters!" The tall uruk spoke, his tusks blocking some of his words. He then made his way towards the tavern, where he aimed to get a drink and some rest before travelling to the west of Almaris. The hunter-orc decided that he was going to leave early for the capital, hoping to find some creatures to hunt. If he was able to arrive to greet his brothers and sisters with a trophy, surely they would recognize his strength.
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