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?))
"Thank you for your hospitality. Well, where shall I begin? I guess we both remember the tragic events that happened in GrandCrest, well... I was a victim of them. They started by locking us up in the city and spreading disease, people dying from lack of hygiene and food," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Then, when we were at our lowest, they invaded us and destroyed everything before our eyes, and those who dared to defend what was ours had their tongues or fingers cut off, useless acts because it didn't stop those fools. It didn't stop me," he said, clenching his hands. "We built a rebellion, and after three months of desperate siege, a group of us managed to break through. It's only been five months since we escaped, but I need to go back and save them, I'm the only one who can. So please... lend me your immense power!"
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