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?))
Taking a moment to look around the dimly lit tent, hr cautiously approachs the cushion and takes a seat. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows on the tent walls as the old hag continues to stare at you with penetrating eyes.
"Expecting me?" he grunts, he voices a low growl. "I'm not one for premonitions or fancy talk. Just ended up here after a little scuffle on the battlefield. Lost someone I was chasing, and now I find myself in this swampy mess."
His eyes narrows as he studys the old hag. "What do you know about me, and why should I spill my story to you?" The air in the tent feels heavy with a mix of curiosity and caution. Leaning back on the cushion, he decides to share a condensed version of his story with the old hag. His gravelly voice cuts through the still air of the tent. "I come from the mountains, a place of harsh winds and rocky terrain. I've spent my life fighting in skirmishes and battles, chasing down those who cross me. Recently, I found myself on a chaotic battlefield, pursuing someone who had crossed my path."
He pause for a moment, recalling the intensity of the fight. "Lost the trail in the chaos. Ended up here, in this swampy town. Now, here you are, claiming you've been expecting me. What game is this, old woman? Speak true."
His eyes remain fixed on the old hag, searching for any signs of deception or hidden motives. The tent seems to close in as the candles flicker, casting uncertain shadows that dance on the wrinkled face before you. Rising abruptly from the cushion, he assertively address the old hag. "Enough of this talk. I've got no interest in your games or prophecies. If you know something about the person I was chasing, speak up. Otherwise, I've no reason to linger in this swamp."
As he speask, his gaze remains firm, and his orcish stature exudes an air of dominance. "But before I leave, I'm hungry. Fetch me something to eat," he demands. "And make it quick. I've no patience for games."
The old hag, though taken aback by his abruptness, nods slowly. Rising from her seat, she shuffles towards a makeshift kitchen area in the tent. After a brief pause, she returns with a simple meal, placing it in front of him.
"Now, eat," she says, her tone a mix of compliance and curiosity. The smell of the swamp and rotted wood lingers, but he devour the food without much concern.
Once satisfied, he stands up, pushing the cushion aside. "Thanks for the meal, hag. I've got no time for mysteries. I'll find my own way. Don't expect me to return."
With that, he strides out of the tent, leaving the dim, swampy town behind him. The mysterious encounter with the old hag lingers in his thoughts as you venture into the unknown, still pursuing the elusive figure from the battlefield.
