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?))
He looked at her reluctantly and sighed before stating “I am not one for speaking to people I ne know, or just met, but since you seem to be so adamant of knowing my life’s story, I guess I should indulge you. I am Lhoris Arastina, and I am a Mali’aheral ranger. I hail from the The Silver Empire of Haelun'or. I have left my home in order to destroy the dark forces that plague this world whom ever or where ever they may be. I have came to this town because I had heard that there has been attacks by the undead here and I am always seeking for a new trophy to add to my collection." He says patting his satchel and smiling at the woman egotistically.
