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?))
The large man would sit himself down on the cushion, his neck craning to get inside the tent. "How do you know of me?" He'd ask in a menacing voice, unafraid of the mysterious woman. "I'm Guntar" The brute would continue "Hailing from a village in the north, I took care of ships for some time before deciding to come south in hopes of joining a mercenary force."
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