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?))
Hessed Veralius:
Would nod to the woman taking a seat on the cushion, it seemed hard like a rock and made a loud creak as he sat down. "I've come from afar in search of shelter. The previous tavern I stayed in had poor structure." He would pause shaking away his words due to going out of context. "Have you a place I can stay? And perhaps get something to eat as well?" He would adjust his back as the seat made a cracking noise, upon the noise he would sit patiently awaiting a response from the woman.
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