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?))
Glen stood at the door of the tent, with a shocked look on his face.
"How is it that you know me and have been waiting upon my arrival?" He said with his hand on his scabbard as he reluctently sits down.
"Well lets see, it all happened on the day after i turned 16. The high elves entered our town, searching rigorously for something, it must have been important. That's when they pulled my brother, Zachery out of our home and dragged him into a cage where they then set off for the next town."
"That day i left the town, in order to train and search for my brother, or at least some answers." Glen began to grip tightly onto his hilt.
"I finally found the high elves preaching their superiority to other elves and interrogated one, but to no avail."
"But they found the one i interrogated, and now they are after my shadow."
"And that has brought me to you" At this point Glen stood up, hand pulling his sword out of its home.
"Now i ask you again, who are you and how do you know me?"
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