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?)) Klun looks around intently, the dingy wet smells remind him of home. "Ah, wonderful place you have going here.... Pleasure to meet you my name is Klun Murch I came from the North" Although fairly north currently Klun still begins to explain about the northern goblin mountain tribe where he used to reside, and speaks about the attack that happened there a few months ago. He leaves out a lot of key details in a hope not to make a bad impression on the hag. "-- I found myself running with my life after that battle, I ran for what seemed like hours until I ended up here" Klun says. His tone seemed confident although the battle he describes seemed brutal enough to have a massive mental effect on someone weak minded.
He finds an old stick in the corner and draws in great detail the village where he used to live. He wants to go back someday, but for now he must find a new place to call home.
