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 sit down, placing my things beside me. "It's not much of a tale. My story is mostly unwritten." I adjust my seating until comfortable "Born and raised in Kal'darakaan. I was raised well by my father. On my 18th, i was given a pair of steel toed boots." I wave a foot to point out the boots. "I left home soon after. After a few years of simple labor I set out is search of opportunities. Not much has fruited from it, but here i am now.
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