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?)) Ulrik quietly settles upon the cushion, resting his palms on his knees before clearing his throat. "Well, ya see here ma'am, my Clan was wiped out by sickness. They sent me away, in hopes that at least one could survive. You see, I had been the only one to not fall ill." He gave a sad smile, as if trying to hide the pain present behind his orange eyes. "I stayed away for a long time and when I returned, everyone was gone. So I left. Too many memories with too many loved ones haunt those tunnels. The search for another home has not been an easy one. I have walked many leagues already. My feet grow weary and my mind yearns for companionship. It's lonely, walking alone for so long. So here I am, sitting before you in hopes that my search will be over."
