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?))
With a weird smile and eyes like a predator, I sit down.
"Can I first ask for something to drink?"
The old hag gives me water.
"Here."
"Thanks," I say, and drink. Then:
"Ahem. My history is short. My parents left me when I was 12. After that, I started wandering around the world. One day, I met someone who told me something…"
I stop for a minute and smile like a madman.
"He said, ‘The most important thing in the world is not power—but knowledge.’ When he told me those words, I started to see the world differently. Ahh, in that moment, I wanted to know every single secret of a person… and the knowledge of entire countries. Ahh…"
Then I stop smiling.
"Then I realized—to gain knowledge, I have to search for it. To travel the world and look for it. That’s how I ended up in this place.
But sadly, there are people who don’t want to give knowledge for free."
I stop again and smile a little.
"And that’s all there is to it. I’m just a greedy man… who wants knowledge."
The old hag looks at me.
"Hmm. Well, that’s one kind of story, even if it’s short. But I see—you really are greedy."
I close my eyes.
"Ohhh? What tells you that?"
Old hag:
"Because even though you want to get knowledge from others, you don’t tell everything about yourself."
I smile like a maniac.
"What do you mean?"
Old hag:
"Your story has holes. Like—what happened to your parents? I don’t believe you just wandered off after they abandoned you."
There’s silence for a while.
"I think that’s enough talking. Thank you for the water."
A memory flashes—
Two people lying on the ground, covered in blood and cuts.
Above them stands a child—16 years old.
I get up and start to leave.
"Goodbye."
The old hag looks like she wants to say something but stops.
She notes to herself that this one might be a little crazy, and it's not worth risking her life for curiosity.
I leave.
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