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?))
*Ghorze would snuff at her words, an irritated growl out of her mouth*
"What story do I have to tell? If you must know, I am one who seeks to have a strong clan to call my own. I wandered in the deserts for so long looking for my brothers in blood, and I wish only now to find what I seek, so unless you have something for me, ill be on my own way."
*She would step back out of her tent with that, brandishing her weapon as she went off looking for a decent meal, not wanting to waste her time with talk*
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