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.”
"My story?"
The Orc grunts, stumbling towards the tent to lay on the cushion,
"Why you want know?"
The hag croons,
"Well, it so happens that I be an ancient spirit of sorts. My soul has seen wars fought and lost, empires rise and kingdoms fall, and everything in between, so tell me your tale, and I shall give you some advice for the journey ahead."
His interest piqued, he perks up and begins to explain his origins.
"ANCIENT ADVICE?! Where I start.... They call me Shloogum the Scary. Parents were strongest warriors in clan and trained me really good, so Scary Schloogum dominated ritual Orc combat for many years. But parents only let Shloogum learn fighting, nothing else! Shloogum want do other things too! SHLOOGUM WANT TO WRITE GREAT LITERATURE!!! So now Shloogum wanders world, fighting as many people as he can so he has many stories to tell in EPIC BOOK! That answer question?"
"I see."
The hag says, with a confused look on her face. She smiles at him and hands him a cryptic message written on a piece of paper, which reads
"In valleys deep, where battles roar,
Inscribe your fights, let ink explore.
From cavernous depths to peaks so high,
Let words be swords, your tale to fly."
Shloogum the Scary stands up, just as confused as the hag, and on his way out, pinches the flames of the dumb floating candles in the air, lumbering out of the tent with his club dragging behind.
"Thanks"
He whispers under his breath.
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