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?))
Example: Staring down the woman, giving her a cold gaze much alike one of a stained warrior. in a gruff, accusing voice I ask the hag, "And if I choose not?". The hag looks at me with a disapproving gaze her eye darting up and down studying every small muscle contraction attempting to read my movements. after meeting my gaze she lets out a laboured sigh and mutters, "I care not if you tell me your story but do so if you wish", she turns away her cloak dangling and brushing against the floor due to her swift movement. I let out a small groan as I decide whether to tell this woman my story. After a small time of indecision I finally elect on telling her what has happened to me to have me end up in this dreary town. "I was a great warrior" I say with my chest puffing out to make me seem more threatening. The hag slowly turns her head and our eyes lock. I continue to speak, "i was in a great battle when my men aborted the war leaving me to die, after sustaining a injury I ran, for days. Days turned into weeks. and finally after a while I stumbled across this town where my body finally gave out, and here I am"
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