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?)) "Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until the boy said "I'm a brewer form the nearby town,." "My name is Kal Damaran I'm from a small town which is kind of a hub for travelers. My parents are tavern owners and while I was growing up I helped around the tavern and learnt cooking from my mother and brewing from my father they where nice people and I learnt a lot from them. But since I was always hearing stories from so many travelers as soon as I turned 18 I asked my parents if I could leave my hometown and explore the they where very supportive of this idea and asked me to write a journal of all my adventures so then I left and I became a traveling brewer and cook and I still send any extra money to my parents now and again and I was just stopping in this town for a quick resupply. soo .... why where you expecting me exactly?"
