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?))
Puzzled he oblige her request cautiously "I'd be happy to..." His face stared blankly into her dark eyes, the time between words felt like decades. " You see I don't know my parents, I was born on the road, abandoned," it is clear he finds this topic difficult as his friendly smile drops. "After being adopted by my father and brought to the Kingdom of Balin." He continued, steadily paced, "He taught me everything including how to be a Merchant, which is what I set out to be when I turned 17." His face uplifted, he continued his story while the crone sat and listened patiently, interrupting not once... "My profession is what leads me here, I'm looking for Mandragora, you wouldn't happen to have any would you?" Reaching the end of his story he gets to his reason for arriving at this swamp, the lady leans forward presenting a strange bag...
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