FifithFoo

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?))

Fifith took a look at the seat, then towards the exit of the tent. "There's no way out of this." he thought to yourself. He had no interest in speaking to the elderly, their speech was far too slow for his comfort, and her attitude made her gesture all the more less inviting. Alas he caved in, stepping forward to take a seat. He fell back unto the cushion. It was pump and soft, he would've been relieved of any stress had it not been for the fact the old hag was eyeing him. 

He took pause, giving him a second of thought to recollect his memories, all the while casting aside the gear he had brought with him.

"Well, it started about a year ago, constables came in on horseback- demanding all able bodied men in the village come up for service. They took all the young men after none volunteered, me, my brother, my friends even. They had to drag me out from the steps of my own home to bleed and suffer for some fat pig who styled himself a king. We were handed the bear minimum a peasant like me could ask for then they threw us into battle. It did not matter that it was raining heavily. Yet even in the freezing cold, those men who hid underneath their gleaming armor arrayed us for battle."

Fifith paused again, the contents of the battle weighing heavily on him.

"On the other side of the plain we could see the enemy army, arranged adjacent to our own. We charged, it was a complete disaster, the hill saturated and muddied to the point where it was difficult to move beyond a simple jog. The enemy beset themselves upon us from all sides."

His words began to pick up speed, clearly agitated just trying to remember the events that happened.

"Those knights whom we admired and held upon pedestals as children reduced to simple men as they were beaten to death trying to hold the line. A man charged at me, no older than I was at the time and- I killed him. The look he gave me as he laid there impaled upon the spear I had sent through him... I- I-"

Fifith stopped speaking abruptly, cupping his face in his hands, trying to breathe. Tears streamed down his face as the emotions begun to choke him.

"I ran. It- it didn't matter if my brother or my friends were still there. I broke and ran. Crawling through the mud into the swamps nearby."

He paused, the tears had stopped by this point though the tinge of guilt was still present in his voice.

"It took me three days to get here. Please- I just need some food and I'll be on my way."

He pleaded with the old hag.