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?))
Eyebrows draw together as he eyes the Hag distrustful, but nevertheless he proceeds. Cautious footsteps making the rotten wood and wet mud under foot creak, groan and schmack. Dirt and who knows what sticking to the thick leather of his boots. "Expecting me? Almost’ feel honored, I was to deliver something" Missing a chair to sit, he stands in front of the old' wrinkly lady, clearing his throat. Twitchy, his fingers curl around the strap of the messenger bag that hangs over his shoulder "I didn't expect it to be my story"
But after the long travel and the cold sticking to his bones, water in his shoes mimicking the surrounding environment, he relents. “I come from.. it should have been North’, I’m traveling to deliver a letter, a small package” Keeping it vague, he eyes the insides of the tent, the flickering candles reminding him of a fire he would love to sit in front of. “as a Messenger for the Caldour Family” It doesn’t seem that she will get much more answers about him or his business, his eyes finding their place back on her and holding her gaze stubborn.
“But now that you know me, how about a meal? A Place to stay, you don’t happen to have a Tavern around here?”
He is sick of the mud…
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