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?))
(SonOfDTom's is referencing this)
The large man awkwardly ducks to enter the tent, his back hitting the low hanging fabric, causing it to bulge at the top. His elbows clip the tent wall as he turns around, facing the tent entrance. "Me? Strange woman speaks of knowing of arrival?" His words unrefined, his sentence missing several vowels. His body faces away from the woman as he addresses someone outside the tent. Vidarok turns to face the woman as his huge stature slowly moves to the cushion, roughly plopping himself onto it with a hard thump. His large body tenses slightly against the marsh hair drafting in. The person he was talking to walks in the tent, it is a man that is the spitting image of Vidarok if he was at least a decade younger, "This is me child, he be following I everywhere me go, even if I tell to leave. Me here for glory, to return to tribe that outcasted I. To show them I strong and worthy to be in clan. I will gain glory."
