itsdreezy

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?))

"Latz gruk of mi'z?" He'd question, his eyes darting around the room. The huge orc would slowly move to the cushion "Da brudda's grukkin diz goi' have da tributez, do latz hav tributez? You'z say you gruk mi'z.... howz?" The orc would speak quickly but confidently as he left his hand on his rusty blade that sat on his waist, watching the old hag's every move. "Latz blah aboutz how latz know me..."