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?))
Torric brushes the damp from his cloak. He nods once at the old woman before sitting down across from her. His voice is calm, rough from travel.
“Name’s Torric. Some folks call me Ashcaller... Long story. My home burned when I was young, and I’ve been on the road since. Fighting, surviving, chasing pieces of the past.”
He glances around the tent, then back at her.
“If you’ve really been expecting me, then maybe you know something I don’t.”

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