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?))
*Urdim's brows furrow as he examines the old lady*
"Hmm.. and who might ye be ? some kind of oracle ?"
*Despite his suspicion, he sets down on the cushion, a soothing air making him appeased and compelling him to talk with the crone*
"... I'm trading, peddling, in search of treasures. Ye're probably wondering why I'm not striking the earth instead..." *He rubs his arm through his tunic, an old wound itching him* "... I've been to many digging expeditions, but I'm not made for it. Hmpf, "too scrawny" they said, "Ye're better off spinning thread instead" .. But when caves collapsed, creatures emerged, and chaos spread, that's what would save me. I would be swift and slippery"
*He reaches into his bag and takes out a small piece of shining rock*
"Tell me, old lady. Have ye seen this kind of metal before ? Finding these is my purpose, my calling.. and if I can't scour the caves, then I'll walk the country in search of it, and.. "
*He stops in his tracks, the old lady still silent*
"Hmpf.. look at me, I might be losing it, talking to a senile old stone like ye.."
*He raises to his feet, dusting his shoulders off*
"I'll be going, then.."
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