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?))
What, ehh.. okay I shall give you our story old one.
My story is with my little brother, we are scavengers of this land. We try to not make to much trouble. Because we already have had our among of battles and chaos in our life. You see my brother Oracas got a
club smashed to his skull and now he have become this semi-angry man with a short temper. So we wander this land in peace. As long as we can, we dont fear a fight because we are after all orcs. The mighty
race.
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