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?))
As the orc steps into the swampy, dim town, the stench of rotted wood and wet moss assaults their senses. The shacks and cabins loomed over the orc, casting shadows that seem to drain the life from the surroundings. Couching down into a tattered tent, the flickering candles overhead reveal a room that mimics the same depressing atmosphere from outside.
At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, her eyes piercing through the orc "what brings you to this dingy town?" she rasps, pausing to study the orc's face. "Ah, it's you. I've been expecting you. Sit," she gestures at a cushion. "Tell me your story."
The smell of rotted wood and wet moss invades the orc's nostrils, making them grimace at the unpleasant atmosphere. The town appears as depressing and dead as its surroundings, a extreme contrast to the lively orcish camps they are accustomed to. The inside of the tent is equally dreary, with faded fabrics and the feeble glow of suspended candles doing little to dispel the gloom.
The shacks and cabins outside, while standing as structures, seem empty and lifeless. It's as if the very essence has been drained from this swampy settlement. The old hag, now gesturing toward a cushion, beckons the orc to sit and share their story. In response, the orc asks about potential job opportunities in this town, wondering if there are any establishments that might provide a means of earning gold.
"I've been wandering far from my home lands," the orc explains, "and I seek a way to make my way back home. Are there any tasks or jobs available for someone of my skills?" The old woman leans forward, her eyes narrowing as if peering into the depths of the orc's soul. When the orc inquires about the cost for her guidance, she cryptically states a random number.
"Am i a joke to you hag!?"
In a moment of anger, the thought of devouring the old woman to steal her gold crosses the orc's mind. "I'm going to eat you and steal your gold!" they showed, a sinister glint in their eye as they swiftly and deliberately motion, their hands warp around the old hag's neck.
The old hag's laughter turns to desperate pleas as the orc tightens their grip, silencing her words forever. With a final snap, they are left alone with the lifeless form of the old hag. The once dim and swampy tent now feels emptier, the weight of an unexpected turn settling in the air.
As the orc gathers their thoughts and takes the gold, they realize that the journey ahead seems even more uncertain than ever.
