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?))
"Well the names Llorva Enmoira I've been traveling the lands in search of my good old friend Geaphor. I learned of the dangers of these lands and how to protect myself. With my bow and arrow and my knowledge in herbs I've protected myself."
The old hag asked: "Why do you seek Geaphor"
"Cause he owes me money. By the way do you know where I might find a casted out high elf he has a bit of a hair problem"
The old hag directed me towards haelun'or I said thanks and went to my friend.
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