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?))
Urug would ignore the woman as if she was not there and begin to loot what is in arms reach, not taking anything he couldn't carry. Urug would would turn suddenly and place and dead possum or other varmint onto the floor, almost as if it were payment for the goods he was pilfering. "Hmng" Urug would grunt before turning to walk towards the exit.

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