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?))
"Well.. I uh.." Ragmyr briefly inspects the old hag, eyeing the exit before conceding and beginning his story. "I was uh.. I was kicked out of my settlement of goblins when I was bout' eleven. After that I traveled until reachin' a human settlement, and when I got there an old farmer took me in.." Ragmyr seems to solemnly look down at the floor, reminiscing on the old farmer. "He took me in and told me all about his old adventures, he raised me as one of his own and yet I still couldn't kick my habit o' stealin'." Ragmyr sighed, it seemingly felt good to get this off of his chest. "After all o' that he kicked me outta the house and I had to go find work elsewhere, course' thievery was the easiest option.. and that brings me here to this town." Ragmyr finishes his story and looks up to the hag, awaiting a response.
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