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?))
Oliver sits down, immediately locking eyes with the old crone. ''I used to be the apprentice to the castellan in a far off land'', he says, still tense from the journey. ''I had a.., let's just say minor disagreement with the castellan regarding his wife and a herd of sheep and it developed rather poorly, so now i have come here looking a new life. I shall go where the winds fancy. If have naught but my skills and the shirt on my back.''
Reye leans back on the cushion, placing his hands on his knees, as if to cut the conversation short. The crone suspects he's holding back, suspiciously eyeing the man. ''So,'', she says. ''What is for you now?''
The traveler is silent for a moment, clearly agitated by the crone's ridicule of his new-found status. He composes himself however and eventually says: ''I still know very little of this land, and i hope to learn more of my new existence''
The crone slowly sits down before him, and starts talking.
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