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?)) “I've came here after a long journey through the tall trees and vast mountains," He looks around, admiring his surroundings, "I've seen multiple hints of dark magick, like I've never seen before. I am a merchant, a fierce one at best. I come from a dwelling full of hard labor. I spent my days pick pocketing just for a bit of mina and bread. I grew up without parents, like everyone else in this disgusting world has. I didn't spend my days in a temple, I spent most of my days wondering of what is left." He gazes at her with a cold look. "Those days are over now, I am here."
