kaks

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.” after a long pause and studying the old woman, he sits on the provided cushion. "I'm just an ale maker looking to settle down and make ale. it's a family recipe you know my older brother who you should have already spoken to must have given you this hole song and dance already. We grew up around lots of breweries and pubs. After a while our father taught us how to make it ourselves prompting the family busness. The dunce must have gotten lost trying to find me."