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?))
I hesitated. Why would she be expecting me? Something inside of me hinted that telling a stranger my story is not something one should do, but the other part of me seemed to want the ancient looking hag to know about it. Steadying my heart rate, I begin to tell her some parts of it, wary about what she shall do with the information once I leave this eerie place. "My name is Faylen Caithana. I grew up just a few days travel from here. I wasn't taught much, mostly archery that my mother has persisted for me to learn. It used to be just my mother and me, but she passed away a couple years ago.". The weight of her death suddenly becomes heavy again. After a few moments trying to sort out my thoughts I continued. "I am traversing to find a place that would let me start fresh. Live my own life without seeing every memory of my mother everywhere I go.". I locked my gaze upon her, waiting for what she has to say next.
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