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?))
"My story? I am a great warrior from a far away land." I stare towards the north. "I fight any who I see unworthy of wielding the blade. The only creature I will fight without honor is a goblin." My expression grows more stern. "My past experiences with goblins have told me enough to know they are vile creatures deserving no mercy." My expression relaxes. "Nonetheless, if you need someone slain, please alert me, I would be glad to challenge them. Now, is there anywhere I could sell a severed head?"
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