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?))
A grin comes to her face at the mention of being expected. Freyja walks closer, eying the cushion but not bothering to sit. Instead, she slams her hand against the dingy wooden table between the two of them, leaning forwards towards the hag. Her cheeky expression screamed that she was full of herself.
"Expecting me? About time someone could recognize greatness. The lot of losers in this backwards town can't tell how much more valuable my time is than theirs." Her vitriolic words seemed to cut through any atmosphere inside the tent, her crass attitude out of place. Whether she knew, or rather whether she cared, was an entirely different matter.
"But you, well, I suppose I can spare my valuable minutes to tell you of the great deeds I've done." A brief pause, seconds passing. "My tribe was a great band of warriors, we had everything we could ask for, and not one bit more. We were marauders, sure, but we weren't greedy. We just wanted to make our place in the world, same as everyone else." A somber expression passes over her face, but is quickly replaced with seething anger. "Some group we robbed, who knows who, doesn't matter at this point, came back with an army. One of the largest I've ever seen, tore everything we owned to the ground. They bested us, I know that much."
He hand balled into a fist, the splinters from the table threatening to pierce her calloused hand as she did so. "Now, I tried to live a modest life. One without wanting it all, without pushing my luck. Look where that got me. If I'm going to lose it all anyways, then I might as well aim big. And those who try to stop me this time..."
She brought her hand back up, smashing her fist back down into the half rotted table, causing it to practically crumble beneath her fist into wooden shards on the ground.
"... They should be crushed, ya understand?"
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