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?)) "Six years I have been traveling alone (sighs deeply). Most of my friends dead at this point. Me and my friends are a group of people who would kill monsters for our kingdom. I wasn't known by anyone not even liked. But after the night when we went to go clear out a cave of some monsters and it didn't end quite well.......... I was lucky to even get out, but my friends were not as lucky. Nobody even knew I survived because I was that unknown. That is why I am alone, it truly hurts me to talk about this." He then gets back up and leaves the hut. The old hag yells to come back, but the dwarf is done with this conversation and this rotten swamp.
