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?" He paused lowering his posture to better meet with the woman. "I am the son of Torune, he was a blacksmith that wandered around. He met his wife Ariana and soon had me." His posture softened as he talks of his family. "I grew up learning trade skill and helping my parents around the house which we settled. My mother died of sickness and my father soon died, but at the hands of bandits. Now I wonder around making my way through this world, and through my wandering journey I was led here."
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