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?))
I look at the old woman, wondering how on earth my uncle had known this woman, regardless, wondering what the harm could truly be in telling my story. With slight hesitation I start speaking "Well, I left home a small while before, perhaps within the last month or so. My mother caught Consumption, the healer we hired did his best, but he'd so far failed. With little to no experience steading a farm I came out in search for food for my mother and I, but a band of bastard brigands came around the area I was in and attacked me, left me for dead. When I came to they had left me in some ditch with no sense of direction back home and I began wandering. Eventually I discovered a nearby hamlet and spent a night at the healers, barely scraping by on scraps until I afforded a ride home. However I found my homestead utterly demolished, burned to the ground, The only thing I could tell was that it was set ablaze with my mother's body-" I stop myself, deciding to skip over this as the memories still haunt me. "That's when I sent word to my uncle, who knew of a woman willing to take me in, and now I've arrived here."
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