CactusSipper

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've been wandering for a while. Here, there, most town names I can't remember. I was a sell sword for quite a while, learned my way around combat. Never been a fan of authority." Most words escaping Esker's mouth have a sense of adventure to them.