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?))
Example: “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Madam.” Killizall chuckles, letting the tent’s flap close behind him. He bows slightly, trying his best to be polite in such a small space before placing himself on the cushion gestured to him. He takes his hat off and places it beside him as well, hair a bit damp from the swampy air. He shakes his head a bit before responding, “Ah, ain’t much to tell really…” He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I’m the middle child of two brothers, lived a bit poor far aways from here, a place dry and sunny. We made it by though, the youngest is doing his own adventures now. The oldest however ain’t around anymore…” His voice dwindles near the end, clearly not wanting to continue the sentence. He reaches into the inside pocket of his torn duster, “Say, maybe you can direct me to the nearest place to stay the night? I mean, your place is nice and all, I just wouldn’t want to be a burden on your beautiful home.” He gives a slight grin before handing her a folded piece of paper, presumably a map. “Where I come from, they pay big money to catch wanted men. I’m on the hunt for one myself, came a long ways by boat. Would hate to waste my time coming here chasing ghosts.” He sighs.
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