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?))
"You know me," Ivar responds wearily "How?"
The old hag chuckles a bit, shaking her head as her hair follows waving. "That's not important boy, I asked you a question."
Ivar paused a moment contemplating whether to trust this woman or not. He could just turn around and leave but something in the back of his mind was urging him to stay. He could lie, but he knew this woman would know. Ivar sighed and resigned to simply communicating with her.
"My name is Ivar Al'Torim, I heil from Norland as my father did and his before him. I ran the family forge with my wife Elaine before she went missing. I closed the shop for a temporary time and left it in the hands of a good friend. I have left to either find her or whatever took her and bring her back to me and our home. That should be sufficient in knowing me, I believe I should get to hear about yourself woman."
