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?)) garren sits down and begins recounting on what led him here "The name is Garren Brawnsong of the frostbeard clan" he gives an aura of slight discomfort as the words leave his mouth "But that is behind me now, quite far behind me actually. Been wanderen for days not seeing a soul... it's nice to have some company for once" he laughs."never quite felt at home up there, in the mountains walking those dark caverns. So i put it all behind me to travel the worls and open my very own tavern, the Brawnsong Inn i shall call it. Now i have no idea how i will finance such an endeavor as my folks in the clan weren't very supportive of my dreams, but all in a days work, we'll get there and the Brawnsong will be known far and wide for it's hospitality, a home away from home for travelers if you will".
