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?))
“Oh, thank you” I move to take a seat. I look at the old woman in her eyes as I begin to tell my story.
“It’s pretty straight forward, I grew up in the iron horde like most of my kin do. It does not matter what clan I belong to, when I reached maturity I decided that I wanted to venture out in search of glory to honor my ancestors, and experiences to help me grow. I have gone around doing odd jobs, some of them have been to gather resources, or to hunt or even build. It isn’t easy, but life is rarely easy, though it does bring me some fulfillment.” John leans forward toward the old woman. “Which is why I’m here… Any work you have for me?”
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