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?)) "Hello mam, I'm not much of a storyteller but I'll try for you." Verdan is a bit miffed about how this nice lady knows him. "My family was rich in the empire of man. I know I may not look it, but I have knight blood in me. After my father died, we lost all respect and went into poverty. Broke, alone, and pressured by tax collectors I farm my fields. Well, usually I do but today I came in search of a woman of great skill. One who has medicine for my sister. I do have some money if you require it, but I hope this story may cover some of the cost?" Verdan asked more that stated with a slight chuckle of unease.
