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?))
Lucius grins with delight. "Well of course you've heard of me! I am Lucius Drithelm! I came to make my mark on this town, word has spread far and wide that if you want to make a name for yourself this is the place to do it... Well.. may be not exactly here... but nonetheless! I have honed my skills as the best scrapper there was in the dirt heap I call home. You see this?" Lucius pulls an old rusty sword out of his scabbard and holds it out in front of him. "This and my grit is all I've needed on my travels. Be it dragons, trolls, or anything else I've put it down. I have always dreamed of rising through the ranks here. So if you would be so kind and point me in the direction of the Commonwealth I'd be very grateful!"
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