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 name is Magnus Rubeta, my family and I have lived in caves most of our lives, like most dwarves. But I feel like it is wrong to keep to ourselves, I want to explore, live a little and make something of my life. So it is what I did, I went out and here is where I am so far. Sure I like my homeland, its impressive the kind of things you can build underground “I wait for a response” , but wait, how could you of been expecting me? Have we met before?
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