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?))
"Whelp, it sure is a long story, you're sure you want to hear it?" Delson chuckles while laying back and absorbing the place into his memory while reminiscing in the past. "It really all started when my father left. He took everything but some medicine books, told me to become a great doctor like him. I was always.. Forced into that. I do prefer cooking though, it was my life passion. I took care of my mother for many years until she passed away. Ever since I been going place to place, learning the secrets to the legendary perfect meal. Cooking for the best people and the worst. I met the wrong people and ended up on the run, trying to hide in plain sight I pretended to be a doctor. People these days call me Doc. I'm a chef at heart though, nothing stopping that." He seemed in a very lighthearted mood, dawning a smile on his face before dropping the smirk for a somber expression. "It does get lonely though, I will admit. Told you it was a long story."
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