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?))
"Well, my name is Ronan Reid. I came here looking for my brother, Grover Reid, but instead found this ol' place." Ronan paused and sighed. "My parents died when I was young. I was 9 when I was told about their passing. Apparently, my father got into some shady business with orcs, and my mother only wanted to help him get out of a hole that he had dug too deep." Ronan stopped because it looked as if the old hag had a question. "Is there something that I should know?" Ronan said. "Your brother, Grover, yes?" Asked the hag. "Yes, my brother is Grover Reid." Said Ronan, sounding a bit more concerned. "He's a bounty hunter, you know? You should keep your distance." The woman continued. "He came here once looking for someone but couldn't find them." Ronan was relieved when he heard this. "So am I, ma'am, but we mean no harm to civilians," he said to the old hag. "I must be on my way; my brother is waiting for me. I'm sorry, have a nice night." The old woman gave Ronan a small smile before he left to continue his venture. "Goodbye, I hope we meet again!" to woman called out, as Ronan walked back to the path, and mounted his horse to continue his journey.
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