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?))
Pakek would arrive on foot, his wooden club in one hand and some red meat on the other, a delicious snack. Pakek would peak around, eyeing the shacks and cabins, getting a nice whiff of the rotted wood and moss. He would eye a tattered tent, entering it, ducking his head and eyeing an old hag. She would ask Pakek his story. "I am an orc who has traveled many far lands through hell, and back when I was a young orc abondoned my own king left to fend for myself I had only myself to rely on, I came across many and grew up along with others. I was mainly by myself, teaching myself how to hunt how to survive in this vast world filled with danger and adventure, and I have now been brought in front of you by fate you could say."
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