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?))
Luka took a glance toward the cushion the old hag had gestured at, before slowly lowering himself onto it with a groan. His uncovered eye focused on the hag ahead of him.
He opened his mouth to speak, before angling his head to the side as his coughing fit began. A place like this was the worst for a diseased man like him. He would need to leave this town before he gained any new ailments, especially when there were mysterious figures like… her around. Luka had heard many rumors of the curses of witches before, and he had no intention of being further afflicted.
Luka looked back to the hag once he had recovered, finally able to speak with his dry throat. “I come from the seas of Aevos to the south of Hyspia… One of the states of men.” Luka spoke slowly, thinking back to the days before his disease. “I was a fisherman, before this took me.” He shuddered and glanced down at the swollen skin of his arm.
“I spent everything I had on trying to find a cure or treatment, anything to fix me… To no avail. I’ve lived on whatever money I can scrounge up, buying just enough medicine to stay alive with my illness.”
“The boil over my eye has only grown. It needs removal for me to properly see with both eyes again, and my bandages have all become dirtied. I’ve come to this region to find someone who can fix those issues, along with the root of disease. I’ve suffered so long… I’d accept a solution from any origin at this point, at any price. The physicians and balms of ordinary men may not be enough…”
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