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?))
He steps cautiously into the tent, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looks around the dimly lit interior before his gaze settles on the old hag. He widens his eyes for a moment, surprised by her sudden appearance, before composing himself and settling onto the cushion she gestures towards. "Name's Siegfried," he says, his voice rough from years of travel. "I've come from the mountains to aid my kin and clansmen in Minitz, the Duke has granted us safe passage and place to live, what could be better?"
