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?))
He analyzes the place cautiosly, taking in his surroudings. As he sits himself he lifts up the goggles from his face and sets them on the top of his head. "Thanks for having me." The words come out dry and raspy. customary for one that does not speak often. He clears his throat, and adjusts himself awkardly. "Pardon me, just more used to the confines of a laboratory or workshop than the house of someone else." As he finishes his adjustments he begins telling his tale "I was born on a small town. The type of town so mired in tradition and superstition that a mind like mine was not... appreciated" he eyes the hag cautiosly, fishing for any reaction before continuing "Safe to say, my tinkering, was not that well received, and i..." He pauses for a moment, the memory of leaving in the night, cold and alone in search of somewhere better. Somewhere he could truly reach his pontential. The years spent learning flash into his mind, and as he recomposes himself from the memory he continues. "... Traveled far for a while." He looks at the ground, pensive "But now i'm back in here and there is work i need to do."
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