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?))
"This town... its rough. Just like the path that brought me here" I Muttered. My mind wondered, what did she mean she was expecting me? "I am the son of a blacksmith from Drakonford." I stated to the old hag. "I'm looking for a place to start over after my city was burnt to the ground." I spoke with a heavy sign. "We had a good life in Drakonford," I opened up with reluctancy "My father and I were both blacksmiths of the town. well... until the attack." I said bringing a tear to my eye. "Anyway enough about me, who are you and what do you want." I demanded
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