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.”
Kobsky stepped into the candlelit tent, his sharp eyes scanning the old hag as she studied him with a knowing grin. He smirked, lowering himself onto the cushion.
"You expected me? I don’t recall sending word ahead."
The hag chuckled. "Fate speaks in whispers, boy. Now, tell me… who is Kobsky?"
Leaning forward, he let his fingers drum against his knee. "Evervale raised me—a city of coin and cunning. I learned young to move fast, think faster, and never let the world catch up. Trained as a duelist and scout, I outgrew its walls and set out seeking adventure, treasure… maybe something more."
The hag’s eyes gleamed. "A seeker, then. Beware, child—shadows lie ahead."
Kobsky smirked, his fingers brushing the hilt of his rapier. "Shadows make the best hiding places."
The candles flickered. The swamp groaned. And in the hag’s smile, something shifted.
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