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Grimmnox

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  1. Grimmnox

    nappingninjastar

    Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?)) Grimmnox squinted in the dim, flickering light, his dark eyes narrowing to slits. His long, clawed fingers twitched by his side as he sized up the hag. Her words sent a shiver through his wiry frame, though whether it was fear or curiosity was anyone’s guess. He shuffled forward and plopped onto the cushion with a graceless flop. Crossing his spindly legs, he leans back, his hooked nose catching the candlelight. “Expectin’ me, were ya?” he rasped, his voice like gravel. “Well then, yer eyesight must be sharper’n yer nose, ‘cause this place stinks worse than a bog troll’s backside.” He smirked, revealing a strikingly white sharp teeth, and drummed his claws on his knees. “Grimmnox is the name, and me story? Hah, reckon it’s the sort you hear in whispers round a cracklin’ fire.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Born under a blood moon, I was—the runt o’ the litter. They said I’d not make it past me first winter. But I did. Oh, I did.” He gestured to the ragged trinkets dangling from his belt, bits of bone and rusty metal. “Every scratch, every shiny tells a tale, see? Took what I needed, tricked who I had to, survived where others didn’t. That’s the goblin way, innit?” Grimmnox paused, his glowing eyes studying the hag just as intently as she studied him. “Now it’s your turn, old crone. You know me, aye? You been expectin’ me. So spill it—why? What’s this town hidin’, and what’s it got to do with ol’ Grimmnox?” His grin widened, wicked and gleaming. “C’mon, don’t keep me waitin’. I got time… but not patience.”
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