Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Malren would look around him before puting a hand around his beard and starting to go into a story:”Names Malcom first of, blacksmith by trade, been hitin the mettal all my life”As the word life exited his mouth you could feel a little pain leave alongside it.”I was raised by my pa to be one, he trained me, i was to be a blacksmith just like him in our hold to smith even for the thane.”As he sayd Thane he spat on the ground.”But life had other plans, one time as we were celebrating my cousin becoming a tailor” He smiled as he spoke about his cousin.”The holds door was broken, and ive never seen such savage things.Orcs and goblins poured in and slaughtered nearly all my kin. By the time we cleared them out there was only a handfull of us left.The thane feld with his trops leaving us for dead.There were too little of us to maintain the hold so we left.”His hat was off by now and you could almost see a tear forming on his hairy face.”We than split and bid farewell to eachother, and ive been wondering all alone for a year or two.These wilds are a true danger a pale thing even bit me”A bleeding wound on his neck shows 2 red holes in his neck.
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