Checogv01

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.” ((How do you respond?)) Dub'Mog grumbled under his breath as he entered the dim, swampy town. The place reeked of decay, and he couldn't help but wonder what had brought him here. He followed the flickering lights to the tattered tent, where the old hag awaited. With a cautious nod, Dub lowered himself onto the offered cushion. He leaned in slightly, keeping his gruff demeanor but showing a hint of curiosity. "Well, pinky, Lat seem to know more bout me than me know about me. What's it lat want to know, and what's it lat can do for hozh uruk like me in this nazty place?"