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?))
Teenk takes the offer right away, jumping up onto the cushion as if it were a soap box. "Of course you were expecting Mi! The best-" He interrupts himself, suddenly deep in thought. Teenk shakes his head, and restates, "The okay-est rowboat maker this side of the world! And soon the better-est, then best captain you've seen." Teenk's chest is puffed out in pride, at this last sentence. "But, but! Humble beginnings. Born near cost, big big family. All focused on ground and little things, but not the sea!" His arms go wide to punctuate this, but not nearly as wide as his grin. He returns to his prideful stance, "So I build! And I build, and I build, and I build, and I..." He mumbles on for a good while. He catches himself, eventually, and continues. "Build a lot of little rowboats. After many, one doesn't sink! So I sail, and tip over. And I sail and sail and, stop tipping over! So I leave! And now am.." Beady eyes search around the tent, before landing on the crone. He points to the ground, and exclaims, "Here! And then I won't be here. Elsewhere. To be best with water! One day, yes."
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