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?))
She jumped nearly out of her own skin at the sound of the hag's voice.
"You've been expecting me?" Thistli said, her hand already hovering over the sword's hilt. "I don't got time for sitting around, hag. I'm merely passing through; I'm looking for someone, you see. I'll be swift and be on my way." This was rather disdainful on her part as she clearly attempted to get away, not out of fear, but because she wasn't all that fond of hags.
Even so, she stopped after having taken just a couple steps away from the tent, a thought occurred to her. She had no leads, Thistli knew this, and so far she had only encountered a single being in that dreadful town; to her misfortune, it was a hag. She muttered a dwarven curse.
She retraced her steps, returning to the hag. "Thistli at your service," she greeted once more, just as a formality, and continued, "I hail from the mountains, the place I call home. I'm a formidable swordsperson in search of someone, you might say family. Now, hag, shall it be me the one to ask a question in return? Or should I also mention that I'm quite skilled with the lute?"
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