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 Nasgrum, I was born in a mountain to a family of dwarves but on a trade mission i wandered off and got separated from my parents now, many years later i have left my town in search of a mountain full of gold and my kin, as the stories go, and that is how i stumbled onto this... place. you wouldn't happen to know of such a mountain... would you?" his eyebrow raises in suspicion
