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.” A battle-hardened or hardening orc, Feldgulg grew up with his best friend Hallerand until they were separated in combat. Hallerand was captured in battle near here, so perhaps the old hag knows something about it. He begin to eke out his clearest common tongue. "Oh, I just, uh… Looking for friend. His name Hallerand, I hoping he's near. Can old hag help orc?" Feldgulg carefully reaches for his satchel, preparing himself should something go awry. A dagger, a book, a compass with no magnet.
