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?))
Gugratz eyes the old hag warily, then shrugs and saunters over to the cushion. He plops down with a grunt, his eyes flickering around the tent before settling back on her.
"Me story, eh? Well, it ain't much, but I'll tell it. Name's Gugratz. Grew up in the muck and grime of goblin warrens, always scrappin' for survival. Found meself a knack for sneakin' and pilferin', y'know, the usual goblin stuff. But I ain't just another goblin, oh no. Got a head full o' schemes and a heart full o' wanderlust. Heard whispers 'bout this swampy town, figured I'd see what treasures and troubles I could find here."
He leans forward, his yellow eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief. "So, why've you been expectin' me, hag? What's the game here?"
