Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Gilihand slowly sits down, warily looking at the woman, but deciding to speak none the less, "Hello, I'm not quite sure why you were waiting for me but.. can't hurt to talk right?" Gilihand adjusts himself in his seat, his eyes drifting upward as he recounts some of his story. "So... basically I'm a cave dwarf, though I never really liked mining so I started brewing for a living. that's actually why I'm here now, I had some excess potions and wanted to sell em." Gilihand offers a bag, little clinking glass sounds come from within. "I'd rather not tell my whole backstory to a stranger, sorry not sorry."
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