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?))
Thane eases onto the cushion, his bloodied leather coat crunching as he settles in. His eyes linger on the hag, unblinking, studying it's mannerisms as to detect a threat. Thane holds his breathe for a moment, as if waiting for her to continue speaking.
"My business here is just that - mine. Excuse my pragmatism, but if you've been expecting me, surely you know why I am here."
Thane takes a deep breath and sighs, trying to conceal his injury and exhaustion. For this was the woman he had seen last night in his dream. And this was the night he would take revenge on his thief's abode.
He keeps himself upright in his seat for a moment before, as if suspending himself in flight to eventually lay into the cushion. "Something was stolen from me. A horse, a dagger, and a pocket of coin." Thane looks towards the exit of the tent, listening for any footsteps nearby.
"You must be akin to my thieves" he says, now examining the contents inside, feeling a sense of pity wash over him.
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