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?))
Gilbagash patted some dust and leaves off his shoulder, looking around confused at the hag before him. *Posh upper class accent* "Oh, well I am not quite sure. This place seems rather dull, got sick and tired of the boring surroundings of home, thought perhaps I might just give travel a go." Sweat glistened off his forehead, he had clearly been wondering for some time, his clothes were patchy and ragged. "Oh would you say, I am rather hungry, been a good while..." His stomach grumbled, "I... wouldn't mind some food if you have any." Gilbagash searches his pockets and finds some hard tack he had forgotten about.
"My name is Gilbagash, Gibagash of Valfleur. Son of Arultide and Helena, my late father and mother."
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