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?))
my story is with my big brother, we walk around the land looking for fresh food and we try not to fight, But sometimes i be very angry,And do battle. And my big brother Harrox try to stop me a long time ago i got a smashed in my face with a club, Thats why i have problem with speaking, and maybe i got some brain-damage.
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