Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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 raise my eye brow in mild surprise and then sit on the proffered cushion. "greeting wise one, you do me great honour despite my heritage. I thank you. As for my tale it goes as follows I was born in Menzoberranzan as the third son to Matron Malice, the leader of House Do'Urden. His father is Zaknafein, a weapons master who secretly hates drow society and teaches Drizzt his martial skills as he reinforces My innate moral code. After some time in the underdark I find the the morals of drow society are so estranged from my own beliefs I had to flee opr be sacrificed to Loth the spider queen (deity of the drow) and here I find myself.
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