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?))
Sylenus had an unamused expression on his face, seemingly uninterested in even talking to the strange woman who demanded his presence. "Apologies," He muttered, lingering for a moment before turning his body toward the exit- yet he paused, feeling strangely compelled to answer the woman. He turned back to her and inhaled sharply, "I do not have a story," he announced. He sighed before opening his mouth once more, "I was born in the forest and raised by my parents until I found myself on my own due to my decisions," he summarized simply before turning back to the exit and leaving.
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