Nymstra

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?)) "well" he says as he sits down and leans back in his chair "my story is a simple one. I, like most of my kin, grew up in the iron horde. What clan I belong to matters not. When I reached maturity, I decided that I would venture out on my own in search for glory to honor my ancestors, and experiences to help me gain favor with a spirit. I have gone from town to town, village to village, city to city, taking on odd jobs. Some of them have been to hunt, to build, to trade, to gather resources, the works. It has not been easy, but it is a life that I like so far" Baltasar pauses and leans forward now, resting his elbows on the table "Which brings me to what brought me here.. Do you have work for me?"