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.”
"Well, my tale is one that spans many lands, filled with battles won and lost. I am an orc of the wilds, a hunter by nature that has scaled treacherous mountains. I've stalked the fiercest of beasts, tracked elusive prey, and faced adversaries that would make even the bravest tremble" the orc swings an imaginary sword in the air. "Now, here I am, drawn by the unseen threads of destiny to this dimly lit tent. But enough about me. What secrets does this place hold, old one." The orc asked inquisitively.
