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.” The blue orc entered the tent almost taking it down with him as he did. He locked eyes with the old woman for a long time before she gestured fo rhim to sit town. He was never much of a talker anyways, not that his human speak was any good. "What?" he said plainl;y scratching at a fresh would on his arm. The old woman repeated what she had said. "I need bandage." the orc grumbled plainly hiding his pain. His war axe had been bloodied laying at his side, his eyes not drifting far from it. "I have a war to fight."
