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?))
As legoles sat down he started to talk about when he was just a kid, he alwaysed wanted to use magic and spells. legoles said,"i never had tried nor had the chance to learn real spells, since they were banned in my villge. I tried making my own, but they never did anything. It was a nice time, my mom was always supported me. She alwaysed wore a ruby neckless. My mom even paid for my journal. "He looked down and continued, "then when I was about 17 1/2 and I was asleep, I heard a loud scream from outside. I looked through the window to see my villge burning, ash and smoke was everywhere. I ran as fast as I could to the forest, looking for some cover. I was only caring my moms neckless, my journal, which I planned to write all my spells when I learn them, a backpack with a map, food, and water inside, and my bo staff. no one survived, so i went traveling for a better life"
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