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?))
Bambil enters barges into the tent, his stout frame barely fitting through the entrance. He nods respectfully to the old hag and takes a seat on the cushion. "You want to hear my life story, eh? I've traveled far, seeking something that might heal a deep ailment that afflicts my kin," he says, his gruff voice sounding determined. "They call it... the 'Dwarven Licker', a rare herb said to possess great powers. I've heard rumours that it can be found in these parts. Do ya know of it, wise one? It's worth getting all the way out here for..."
(This is just a random scenario.)
