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?))
"Why Hello Miss," as I begin to sit down, "Oh my story you want, well it started over 4 years ago during my younger times, as I begin to remeber it so vigurously, "It was very simple times I tell you until dark elves attack my village," as i make a foughtly sad face, "I escaped merely from the dark elves from other then my father, he lead me to a tunnel which when i looked apon was miles long, and I escaped and had to live off my experience with my father, due to the fact that my mother died when I was at a younger age when I dont remeber alot of her," as i being to tear up, "But I have push through these daring times to come apon this town for adventure and want not.
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