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?))
*Gwenris dipped her head in return to the question, biting the tip of her thumb as she thought of how to format this story she was about to ramble out. One hand fumbling in circles over the other as she started speaking* "Ah!- Well uhm. I have lost my families caravan, you see.- uhm. Have you seen a caravan of dwarves perchance? Irgards? My fathers name is Grelu? I miss them all dearly and wish to reunite." *She'd scratch the side of her face with a smile. Her eyes squished shut, she has been searching for ages. She just wants to find her home.*
