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?))
“Uh… I’m just passin’ through,” I say, eyes flickin’ down for a moment. I glance around the tent, then back at her with a small, unsure smile. “But if you’ve been expectin’ me… maybe I oughta say why I’m here.”
I sit down slow, careful-like. “Ain’t meanin’ to cause any trouble,”
(Arther Gareth Bedivere was raised by two folks who didn’t have much but made do. His pa was the quiet sort — steady hands, few words, never missed a day’s work no matter the weather. His ma had a kind voice and a way of makin’ the house feel warm, even when the pantry was near empty. They taught Arther to keep his head down, work hard, and treat folks right. He’s kept to those lessons ever since. Doesn’t ask for much, doesn’t cause trouble. Just wants to keep movin’, keep workin’, and maybe find a place where things feel right again)
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