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?))
I shuffle uncomfortably before responding," Well, if you must know, I'm an adventurer of sorts. I've traveled around the world trying to find my big break. All I could find were legends of treasure and hidden dwarven keeps loaded with treasure. I could never find them!" I cry frustratedly. "I came from a pretty bad place where I learned some slight of hand. A few years of pickpocketing and burglary taught me that the classic Halflings luck didn't favor me. I hope that I may be able to find glory and security in this new land. Wait... Why am I telling you this" I say as I give a questioning look.
