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?))
He sit where she pointed and kept his hands folded so she could see them.
“I came to work,” He said . “And to watch. Those usually go together.”
He glances at the candles, then back to her. “I serve a temple. Not as a priest. I sweep floors, carry water, run messages. The kind of work that lets you hear things without being invited to speak.”
He shrugs. “People talk when they think you are furniture.”
“I believe the world is run by people who make decisions and people who live with them. I am tired of only living with them.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I am not brave enough to swing a sword for glory. I am patient enough to stand near the ones who give orders and learn how they do it.”
His eyes flick to the flap of the tent, then back to her face. “I was told this town rewards those who pay attention. Rot and water hide things. They also preserve them.”
He leans forward slightly. “If you have been expecting me, then you already know the rest. I am here to make myself useful and see where that leads. If it leads nowhere, I will learn why.”
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