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?))
Cym gazeson the old hang and slowly taking a seat “I was following a lead but my trail has gone cold… I guess I have time to share.” Leaning back into the seat Cym relaxes and set his bag on the ground. “I was just a small time mercenary but some shady fellow offered me a job, and I’m not one to judge so I took it. I traveled from Nor’Astah, got caught in a small fire” he gestures to his neck “which I lost most of my equipment, wandered around a bit got lost, and now I’m here.” Cym let’s out a sigh. “I just needed some supplies but this place doesn’t look so… resourceful”
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