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.”
Vaul'soth eases himself into the chair, letting his eyes wander to scan for any potential threat. "Expecting me. Right. I guess I've nothing to lose then." He adjusts his coat a bit before coughing into his hand. "Vaul'soth, though I suppose you know that already. I come from an insignificant family in some insignificant cave and aim to make more of myself than some mushroom farmers or what have you. I've come to DO more... And maybe you can help me with that."
