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 looks around, assuring himself that this is no trap. once he has convinced himself, he sits down, cross-legged. "Well, if you're so keen to know, I'll humor you." "When I was a young boy, I was left in the woods, surrounded by a flock of Ravens. I listened to them, and I befriended them. I kept up with them, I ate with them, I slept with them. I almost knew them better than I know my own kind. I was like that for who knows how many years. One day, I got taken by some hunters who found me, and turned me into the church. I learned to read, write and pray. But I never forgot those ravens." He speaks wistfully. "When I was somewhere around fourteen or so, i left the church in the middle of the night to find them. I only found their feathers. I made them into a cloak, and got a mask to match. I had a few bad times and a few good times, but I've been like that ever since." He shrugs. "I really got nothing else."
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