GhostDudeMike

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?))

Alexander quietly looks at the suspended candles then brings his attention to the woman and sits down on the cushion crossing his legs, hand on the handle of the dirk at his hip, "Work, thrill, I'm not sure, Lady. I'd like to know how you know me, but I don't expect an answer I'd understand..." He glares at the crone for a second then diverts his eyes to the ground, ". . ." contemplating. Alex raises his head back to the lady, a bit of white powder falling from his hair, "Trying to find myself, away from home, warmth... again, unsure. My name is Alexander, son of Ford of clan Kvitravn." His stare less threatening now, hand unmoving from his favored response to attackers still.