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?))
i am a dwarf long lost in a forest with no recollection of my memory. it seems as though i am lost with nothing but my cloth and armor this stone hammer has kept me safe from starving wolves, i ponder too often, maybe because i feel as if i was left behind ,my mind flashes to a time where my people wore great shining golden armor celebrations amongst dwarven men and women alike, celebrating in a long lost golden era. Shame if only i knew where to go back to my home.
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
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