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?))
Ortall place his sword on the ground, next to the cushion, and sits down. "I come from a destroyed Orcish nomadic camp. I have no living family members." He begins, looking at the woman. "When I was 2 years old, I was pitted against a scorpion and completely crushed it, though I did suffer a wound on my right shoulder. From then, I started practicing weapon and combat training and after about 6 to 7 years, I enrolled in my camp's hunting group. When I turned 14, my camp was attacked by a huge wave of undead, leaving me as the only survivor. And, for the past 4 years, I have been travelling across the land, searching for a now Orc tribe, clan or nomadic camp to live in and protect." He then grabs his sword and slices at the woman's neck, killing her. He then stands up and stretches his limbs, as the bloodlust voices in his head start getting quieter and quieter.
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