Hiccup392

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?)) She grunts lowly, tusks showing as she scowls. Ducking through the entryway, Or’akh plops down onto the cushion with a thump. A curious gaze casts over the floating candles, head tilting to follow the flames whilst she speaks. Spewing out a thick mixture of Common and Blah, she doesn’t seem to bite her tongue or slow her speech for the woman. "Mi zeeking work, old hag. Need to find, need to make live. Hear lat help, make many thingz happen. Zeek challenge, zeek change.“ Her rough voice echoes in the dimly lit tent, and the flickering candles cast eerie shadows on the wrinkled face of the hag. “Perhaps we may help each other yet, go on then. Introduce yourself, tell me about your life.” the hag says, leaning forwards. She slams a fist on her chest, "Entrodooce? Name, name iz Or’akh. Mi votar, mi lift zhamza, make luzk and zpyke . Or’akh will do for tent and grub. Lat want flat? Can do, for rite price.” She flashes a toothy grin, raising an arm to flex. Glancing around, Or’akh reaches towards a cabinet, pulling the drawer open with quite a bit of force. Cutlery and dishes rattle, a dissatisfied snarl leaving her lips. “Iz how lat treat guest? No grub, no Blah!” The hag hums, turning to rummage behind here. From an unseen source, the hag provides her with a cloth-wrapped bundle of crusty bread. “Not usually eat but will. Will, for kind. Rulg.” Or’akh mutters, breaking off a portion to choke down, eyes looking over the hag who doesn’t seem to care how long you take. “Or’akh come from… Very bright, hot. Iz bad for light skin, many become red, Nub red like mi, hah! They say painful!” “Do lat know of work? Work for Or’akh? Will lift log, if must. Mi rather do fite, make many zult, but will do other.” Met with little more than silence, she grunts, raising up to now stand. “Or’akh leave, it iz.. Pushdug. Must find work, or tent. Look for both, gug’ye.”