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?))
The young man- who had immediately taken to looking back outside- visibly jumped in surprise. He slowly turned to face the woman... and all worry seemed to drop off his face, replaced by a faux-smile. Nothing more than an old hag. Somebody that could be outrun. "My apologies, I thought this tent was uninhabited, madam." A pause as he surveyed the inside of the tent more closely. Nothing of value. "Frankly I haven't the time to speak," he stated bluntly, turning to the tent flap. "Vereor Nox," he said in departure, voice wavering slightly. He immediately broke into a sprint upon exit.
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