kobe547

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?)) Damon looked about the dingy tent once more. The hairs on his neck stood up as the old hag spoke to him, his face grimacing. "Where should I-- Sit?", he asked hesitantly looking about once more. He took a deep breathe relaxing into his environment. The moisture of the whole town seemed to dampen his clothes and his mood. He began to speak in a low almost bashful tone, "My name Damon Godwin, I am 22, and I am running away-- rather-- I'm on an adventure of finding my true calling. I grew up in a small town, so small the duke of it wouldn't even be mentioned in the subtext of stories written about these lands. I don'[t wants that same fate, I want to be known, loved, a true power. That's why you have been expecting me? You know my true potential, don't you hag?" Damon waited a while for a response from the old woman, but she just closed her eyes and swayed before getting up to leave the tent. Damon arose to his feet following in her steps. Once he moved the curtains of the tent entrance over the woman was nowhere to be seen.