Your character (Cedric Hargrave, Human Aged 25) 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?))
Cedric steps into the tent, the heavy air making him feel as though he's walking through a fog of forgotten memories. His boots squelch softly as he moves, the sound almost too loud in the eerie silence of the place. The flickering candlelight dances across his features, casting fleeting shadows as his gaze shifts to the old hag.
He hesitates for only a moment before speaking, his voice low and guarded. "I didn’t come here looking for answers," he says, his eyes scanning the dim space around them as if expecting the walls to close in. "But I seem to have stumbled into something far bigger than me, haven't I?"
His fingers tap the worn hilt of the dagger at his side, a habit that betrays his unease. "I’ve heard whispers of things… strange things, pulling people into places like this. And now I find myself in your tent, with you staring at me like you already know what I’m here for." He meets her gaze head-on, his tone firm but tinged with a hint of caution. "I came for something—or maybe someone—but it's starting to feel like I was meant to walk this way."
Cedric shifts slightly on the cushion, the weight of his words lingering between them. "If you know me, then you already know what I seek. But if not, it’s simple. I’m here because I don’t believe in coincidences." He leans forward just enough to show intent, but not too much to give up control. "So tell me, old one—why have you been waiting for me?"
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