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?))
Asvik looks around with a mix of disgust and distrust, unknown of what this place and more concerning to him who this woman is and why she expected him. ''uh.. aye...'' He says doubtfull as he looks down at the cushion trying to eye if there is any part of it not filled with a thin layer of grime before carefully sitting down.
He then looks at the woman, feeling the pressure of getting a good first impression. ''Work... There is not much of it up north, especially not at this time of year.'' He feels the moisture of the cushion seep slowly into his pants whilst trying to not think too much off it. ''The meadows are covered in ice and snow whilst we shelter inside, and with the winter lingering on the storage empties out. Its either starve together whilst the little ones cry... or take my responsebility as the eldest so they have one less mouth the feed''
He takes a letter from his pocket and puts it on the table ''This came in a few weeks back from Fredrick a nephew of mine. Came here looking for the same thing under the same circumstances. He's now in the east working as an apprentice... And i wondered if you ma'am had any advice for me.''
He pushes the letter a bit further on the table and leans onto his legs awaiting her response, anxious of what he could be getting himself into.
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