Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Snorri eyes up the weird lady. As his father, and his grandfather before him, he despises witchcraft and dislikes spellcasters in general. The odd feeling he got when the hag talked to him as if she was expecting him didn't help the situation either. He was about to insult her, his grip firming into the hilt of his shortsword. Before he does, however, he remembers why he had arrived in this squalid town in the first place: He's here to find that blasted human who stole his axe before he could present his craftsdwarfship to his Elders. He mumbles something under his breath in his flinty Dwarven tongue, "That human will pay for making me wind up in this shithole," as he leaves the tent.
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