You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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?))
Creed steps into the dimly lit tent, his boots squelching slightly on the damp ground. He takes a moment to adjust his wide-brimmed hat, shaking off a few stray swampy dewdrops. The flickering candlelight casts a small shadow on his face, highlighting his brown eyes and a faint scar. With rugged steps, he moves over to the cushion and lowers himself onto it, resting his hands on his knees.
"Well, ma'am," he drawls in his thick accent, "I reckon ya' could say I'm a bit outta my element here. Name's Creed Granger, an' I been lookin' fer a lost cow that wandered off my ranch. Mighty fine animal, she is, an' I ain't one to leave her out in the wilds if I can help it."
He leans back slightly, tipping his hat back to get a better look at the hag. "But seein' as how ya' been expectin' me an' all, I reckon there's more to this here meetin' than just a lost cow. So why don't ya tell me what ya know, an' I'll fill in the gaps with my story."
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