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?))
Velmor raises his hand and says: "Bit of an odd question but I'll oblige, my story..." He says with an air of excitement. "...from the age of eighteen I had already stolen from most of my neighbors with my friends and decided that robbin' and stealing was for me." He says while, he sits down. "My family were pure blooded and damn proud of it so I did what anyone in my situation would do and ran away to seek my fortune elsewhere." "Then I found this town and figured I would start with an easy target." He says as he quickly jumps up and draws his bow at the old woman. "Now then, would you be a dear and tell me where you keep your money?"
