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 am from a small farfolk village. Up north. Many consider our ways strange. Our head is said to have spoken to God, and had thus received a divine covenant. We are held to strict ideals, no leaving, no disobeying, and most importantly no magic. The leader has made it clear that the use of such power will be punished by death." "My brother has gone missing and our leader has sent me to track him down and find him, though I haven't been successful yet I am still hopeful. Though I dont believe he would be here I decided I should check."
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