ItsAlfred

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?))

Aturatora takes a moment to analyse the room once more taking note of the objects nearby, taking a deep breath of the interior of the tent trying to forget the horrible smell of the rotting wood from the outside. She then slowly approaches the cushion and kneels on floor near the cushion, picking it up and dusting it off with her bare hands. Slowly and carefully placing it back where it was and seating on it. "Hm... Right. My story... In all honesty, it's nothing thrilling. I was raised in a wealthy family with nothing to worry about, spent most my young life learning my mother's teachings on how to be a good maid, and how to make money off it. Meanwhile my father tried to teach some of his own hobbies, though they didn't interest me as much so it ended up being quite a waste of time. Fighting just never was my passion." Aturatora then finally paused, expecting some sort of answer from the old hag.