Bilrob

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.”

I stare uneasily at her for a moment before turning to look at the mildew-ridden cushion. Not wanting to appear rude, I daintily sit down, minimizing my contact with the dank "seating". 

"Well, um, maam, I don''t mean to be rude, but I don't really know who you are... I was just passing through, see, and I thought-"

She interrupts - "Yes yes yes, we can get to that. But right now, if I am to do my job, I need to know some things first. Anyway, your story."

"Well..." I stammer, unsure how much she knows. "To start from the beginning, I was born in Dunshire to my loving ma and pa, and enjoyed a happy upbringing. They, my parents, worked as simple doctors, see, and I grew up learning the trade, which in ol' Dunshire means you see a fair share of household cuts n' bruises - its a peaceful town y'know. I did a lot of gardening - we were herbal healers mostly as that was mostly what was called for, but I'm certainly not squeamish... Anyway, at about the age of 23 both my parents fell ill, quite ill mind you, and so I left to get medicine because what we had certainly wasn't working. I traveled with my uncle to Valfleur for more potent herbs - that wasn't the only place we stopped mind you, just where we finally found what we were looking for - you might know something of it," - I glance at the cauldron and the many bottles on the ground - "we were looking for Wrackroot, y'know, and anyway we made the journey back and of course it worked, potent stuff Wrackroot is, and thankfully too for me mum and da, but the nobleman we bought it from asked for a payment in Mina, and being mostly trading folk us Halflings we reached an arrangement where I would work as a medic for his men anbd house to pay off the dang herb. So, I made the journey back again and worked a number of years, apprenticed to another doctor, and generally it was quite an amicable relationship - Am I rambling? Is this the type o' story you requested?"

"Proceed!" the witch cackled. 

"Sure, where was I? I worked nearly 10 years, but the arrangement we had fell through when the nobleman himself died and his house splintered, and who you reckon gets blamed when the ordinarily healthy nobleman dies but the foreign, young and - although I know my stuff - seemingly inexperienced medic? Not knowing what to do I fled, which of course made me look more guilty, and here I am, wherever this is." I glance uneasily out the tent flap. "I'm trying to go back to Dunshire, see, and maybe settle down, see the family, although I worry I may owe some powerful people some explanations and probably still some money. Now I've caught you up, I've got some questions - what did you mean when you said you were expecting me, and did you say you could help?"

"Perhaps..."

The end!