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...uh..." I pause nervously, unsure whether or not to tell the truth. "W-Well, I, uh..." I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, then begin sharing. "I am Lazari Brisingr. I lived on a farm out in the countryside of Aaun with my mother and father. However, I had to flee after my mother passed away and my father went mad with grief and attempted to kill me. All I am here for is temporary refuge until I can move onto the next town and hopefully find lodging again, permanent or once more temporary." I fumbled with my bag, searching for anything of value I had left and could trade. "I can exchange the few materials and supplies I have for lodging, or I can work for whomever I stay with. I just need somewhere safe to stay. Please."
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