Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Razcolo hesitates for a moment at the edge of the tent, his eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight before stepping fully inside. The smell of damp earth and smoke clings to the air, but he does not seem bothered by it. He lowers himself onto the cushion slowly, keeping a straight posture with his rough hands resting on his knees.
"I did not come here looking for prophecy or fortune. Just work and maybe a place to stay for a while."
He studies the old woman carefully before continuing.
"I am Razcolo. No noble name behind it. I have spent most of my life building homes, walls, and bridges when people needed them. When trouble came, I fought to keep those things standing. Seems like this town could use both."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"You said you were expecting me. I would like to know why."
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