Swampstamp

Swampstamp

Swampstamp
The sound of a boat scraping against the muddy bank of the swamp echoes through the still air as a figure, cloaked in a tattered coat, steps onto the shore. Swampstamp, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of a worn-out hat, turns to face you, a grunt escaping his lips.

"Y'all lost? Ain't much out here for folks like you."

His voice is rough, like the gravel beneath his boots, but there's a hint of warmth hidden beneath the gruff exterior.