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 gaze around, taking note of all the tent's belongings as i kneel in front of the lady in front of me. "this story is long, i think im going to need something to drink as the story unfolds." a smile spreads across my face as i meet my gaze to the old hag's. "i served in the orc horde as a goblin. kept on surviving as my friends and family died around me." i sigh, the smile going away for just a second. "though we were just bred to fill the ranks, so i don't have to worry too much about who they were."
"then at one point we were able to raid a camp that was connected to a town. while everyone was killing or pillaging, i got a hold of knowledge, books. it is where i learned to command my fellow goblins to perform better. less were killed."
"i wanted to perfect that, so i sneaked away to learn more. as i learned, i grew. not only mentally, but physically. i was more then a goblin. i was a hobgoblin. after many years of travel, i found myself being called by the iron horde. it was a feeling rather then through some divine mail. so i began my trip there."
"im currently on my way there, would you be so kind as to point me in the right direction?"
Recommended Comments