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?))
"I be Jahewfer Ironbound. I hail from the Deepvein Holds—though I doubt the mountains remember me kindly now." His voices carries like large gravel. He proceeds to sit with a heavy drop on the cushion presented.
“I followed the signs out here. Maps inked in half-truths, rumors whispered by drunk travelers, a vision or two I’d rather not admit came from my own dreams.” He looks up at the hag, meeting her knowing eyes.
“You said you’ve been expecting me. Then you know I’m not here for rest or comfort.”
“Something’s stirring in the dark places. Something old.”
"The Ironbound clan was left ravaged and pillaged. I nearly fled with my life. I know wander the lands in search of any of my people."
"Now tell me where can an old beard like myself get some ale round here?!"
