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?))
He sit across from her near the fire in front of them, the flames illuminating his face to show forth a calm and welcoming smile. "I am looking for work, I'm just but a lumberer trying to make a name for myself." He replied back calmly, his voice hoarse from all the sawdust filling the lungs over the years. "You see, I don't come from much, my father an owner of a small lumber mill, and my mother but a helpful hand at the bakery in the town I was in." He would slide off his satchel, it worn down seemingly being kept in my possession for quite some time due to the weathering. He’d take out an apple and cut into it with a pocket knife he had procured from the same satchel. With his mouth slightly full, "I heard a lot of people pass through this town, whether it be for work, adventure, or simply a place to get away from all the bustling action in these lands, but you see...I want to assist and really help others; whether it be finishing and improving what my father started or doing something more. I want to have a purpose and currently, I am finding it by setting both my feet forward and stopping here." He would swallow the remaining bits of apple he had in his mouth and wipe my face with my arm. "Now tell me, what do you see from me? How can I make a name for myself?"
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