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?))
"Ah, hello ma'am! I don't quite know who you are or how you know me, but I've never been one to deny talking about myself. Well, my name is Yeoffrey, Yeoffrey Smith. My great-great grandpappy back in the day shared my name, so I only thought it appropriate to honor him and take it myself. I'm the youngest of me four other brothers, Trant, Howard, Callum, and Rory, although I haven't seen them in quite some time. No bad blood there though, just haven't made my ways home in years."
A brief pause. This is the first time he's stopped to catch his breath since he started talking, lasting only a moment before he returns to his prattling.
"As for what ol' Yeoff is doing out here, well I'm simply a vagrant at the moment! Got kicked out by the wife, don't blame her one bit, but ever since I've just been town-hopping looking for a new place to call me own. Y' see I was an awful, awful husband, never at home, never attentive, and she just got sick of me. Left me for that bastard elf that was perusing around, oh that fiend he visited me tavern and complained that I only had 'half liquor'. Don't even know what the hell that means, effeminate bastard just wanted some fruit wine. Where was I? Oh yeah, just a traveler is what I am, nothing more, nothing less. Goodness me, I forgot to ever ask for your name! I apologize, can get so wrapped up in me stories sometimes that I forget all my manners. What's a beautiful lady like you doing in the sticks?"
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