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.”
Havom looks at the hag with a surprised look, he says : "Weird ya say that, was lookin' fer a place to fill me tankard" She insists saying she heard about the dwarf wandering through the forest, Havom caves in and sits beside her "Well I'm not the talk'tive type ye see ? But I guess I could spare a few fishing or hunting stories..."
Surprisingly, they talked for way longer than Havom would have expected to the point where even he didn't feel the thirst that brought him to the tent in the first place. Perhaps the hermit is slowly opening himself to the world beyond his forest.
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