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?))
He sits, without hesitation, although visibly apprehensive. "You ask about my story, even though you seem to have been expecting my arrival. How did you learn about me? And... why? Why learn about me?" He rests an arm on the table, with one hand on his trusty axe. "In any case, I'll start. As you likely know, Orcs value strength over most things. I never liked it. I fought for my survival, to not be seen as a weakling, to not be abandoned in the desert. I hated fighting. I hated killing. But I endured it. I loathe my culture, where I come from... but I learned to love the sense of danger. I've wandered around, being a mercenary at times... but all I want is to be a blacksmith. You may be surprised to hear an orc talk like I do... I studied, hard, to get rid of anything that connects me back to them. Although if given the chance, I would love to start a new... different orc culture."
