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.”
Seated on the cushion, Klauss spoke with enthusiasm. "Just finished militia training, craving more than the usual. I long for adventures, duels, the thrill of the unknown. This swampy town called out to me, and I'm here to carve my story in its dark alleys and moss-covered cabins." The old hag nodded knowingly, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "Your story is woven with threads of battles and quests. Continue, Klauss. The mysteries of the town await, and your adventure is just beginning." Leaning forward, the hag gestured, and the candles flickered. "Your tale has just started, and the town's secrets are eager to be revealed.
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