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.”
The 'halfling' sheepishly takes the offered seat. his gnarled stick fingers rubbing against himself nervously, he begins to try the speak but what come out first is a wheezing cough "I, I'm a Traveler miss, or at least fur now, I ain't gots what ya'd call a home as of yet. looking fur one ya see." he says dipping his dipping his head even further into the cavernous folds of his scarf. "and no ya ain ben expecting me, I ain't that important fur somebody ta be expecting me."
the Halfling stis back in me chair "As fur me story, ain't that much ta tell. lived a pretty decent life fur a street rat" the halfling coughed "ain't no I dea where I'm from mind. got found on an openage steps." he shruggs, not really careing much "since then i'd been in and out o' homless shelters, taverns, even on occation back allys." he says smiling "a Right honourable drifter is wot I am!" he says with a wheezing chuckle "though I wouldn't mind a place ta call home." he says with a smile "ah but it ain't not'in about me really, tell me about yaself. we got all night i imagine"
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