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?))
*strong smell stunned little men in doors he made loud breathing noise just for show* slowly he put his oversized pouch on table ignoring siting place, looking for rest of water to chill his overheat body cause of all that thick swampy air, doing that he replay*
-old hagy, i cant told you my entire story or we both end up like a dry pums, but i can told ya that im traveling because nothing is waiting for me back where i came, just some bridge trolls eating stew from my granny *he spray water on his hiding under beard like a goblin in bush face* and im great cook if u want to eat some burnt frogy legs i got geting here miss, and i can told ya some stories of weird dwarf scrumping apples of orchard from all around world
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