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.”
((i once wanted blood for the blood god, but now i just want to be a peaceful man and change my ways))
"uh me? i uh i dunno.." i look around for the chair and sit shuffling a bit to get comfortable, which just seemed impossible in the chair. "you really dont have many guests do you." I mutter. "i was running through the forest trying to find my bearings and i stumbled into your home, but im assuming you mean my past. My parents died my mother from child bearing and my dad was stabbed by goblins when i was ten, i was adopted by dwarves and treated like trash till i escaped, abooout three years ago now, i think? i dunno times kind of a blur.
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