fredkitten

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 cloaked figure cautiously took a seat on the aforementioned cushion. Taking a few moments to properly get comfortable, they awkwardly cleared their throat and repositioned their legs for a third time. Adjusting their cloak, their gaze finally met the elders. The eye contact made their skin crawl, but they pursued on none the less. " I'm looking for an old friend, he goes by the name of Rulan Heskin. We grew up together on his farm, and we've since been separated due to unfortunate circumstances. " The stranger fumbled with their hands, fidgeting with each one of their knuckles as they spoke. " I fled from Norland during the war, and I haven't been able to locate him since. Have you heard his name before? " As soon as their words finished tumbling off their tongue, the small tent was enveloped in silence. " He's really dear to me. If you have any information on him, I'll pay you handsomely. I swear on it. " Worry lined their features, afraid their journey might really have been for nothing after all.