Knomymy

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?))

Bimble limped over, body littered in bruises, and placed his rear on the cushion, eyes skimming over the alchemical concoctions brewing in various beakers and flasks at the far side of the tent. Nervously, his eyes darted back to the hag. “My s-s-story?” he uttered, catching the tip of his tongue with his teeth. “I just, uh… I came here on horseback – arrived at Norland a week ago to sell my herbs, but, uh… My horse, along with my possessions-” Bimble’s gaze turned downwards, a frustrated frown creasing his forehead. “These daft roads, littered with trees and bushes” He mumbled, “Well, as I was riding, a party of bandits, all laden with steel erupted from the foliage.” The hag’s eyes widened, and she leaned closer in concern “So, they robbed you?”  she asked. Bimble nodded, before sniffing and continuing. “Not only did they take my horse and herbs, but they beat me, and left me on the side of the road” The hag gently cradled the halfling’s hand, but he instinctively pulled it back, before placing it back on the table. “My family needed the money – they live in the woods with no source of income, no interaction with the outside world but…” Bimble paused, a tear forming “I don’t know how I’ll get back to them now, heck, I don’t even know how I’m not gonna starve over the next week.” A smile broke the hag’s worried expression, as she leaned back and grabbed a bowl of bubbling liquid. She placed it on the table, sliding it over to Bimble “Soup?”