Sofalo

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.”

Oin Ogrebreaker stepped into the tent, the stench of decay filling the tent. He takes a seat on a cushion, his tired yet resolute eyes locked with the hag's stare. "Indeed, it is I, Oin," he acknowledged. "I am in search of more than mere answers. I yearn for a means to defend that which is precious to me." He continued, "My clan has weathered countless hardships, displaying unwavering resilience. However, this looming darkness poses a threat to us all." Drawing closer, his words carried a sense of urgency. "There are signs of unrest, whispers, and tremors. A state of turmoil has befallen the land. I seek wisdom that can guide us all in the face of this impending doom." His voice resonated with the wisdom of experience. "I have fought many battles, but this darkness is unlike any other. It is unyielding. I am in pursuit of the ancient truths, the forgotten scrolls of our ancestors, and knowledge that can aid us in combating it." Oin's gaze brimmed with determination, as he sought out to confront the darkness that threatened his world.