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 eye the hag up and down, searching for anything on her that may pose a threat to me. "I've come from the western Iron Hills after visiting my cousin, Grenmur; Lord of the Iron Halls." I pause breifly to see her reaction and if she knows my Cousin. "I've come to take on a new quest, something new to expand my horizens. Do you know where I may find adventure?"
