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.” I am an orc. I am a hunter. I mainly hunt pigs after they did after all kill mt grandmother. My grandfather the 18th to be exact thought me how to hunt though he did pass away after my grandmother. Ive been traveling to become stronger so I am once again retiring home.
