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?))
Example:
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
"Aye.. you wish to hear meh story then? Well it ain't gonna be thrillin' so I'm sorry for the disappointment in advance. The names Reginald but everybody back home called me Reg or Reggie, I'm a blacksmith, ain't nothin' special. I was raised by my ma and pa and little devils I call siblin's. I never had a thirst for war like the other folks but I did like the armor n weapon parts! The way the iron shined in the forge light *sigh* yeah the good days. Well anyways I decided I could do more with my skill set than manage the weapons of a small village so I came out here lookin' to make myself useful! Like I said, it ain't much of a tale but it's mine"
Recommended Comments