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.”
*he points at himself, confused*. "Are you talking to me? I've never met you before." *he cautiously walks towards the chair, sitting down once he reaches it*. "I would call myself a businessman. ALL sorts of businesses." *he says, as he gets more comfortable* "I'll spare you the details due to their legality, but you get the point. I sell whatever I can get my hands on, be it swords or substances." *he inspects his fingernails* "I was told an old friend of mine lives in these lands, and is in dire need for coin. If there's a demand, I shall supply it." *he delays while looking around* "This tent... It reminds me of my youth. I got disowned by my folks for not being like the other kids. While they were wasting their youth, playing around with toys, I was mostly on my own, creating items from scraps left by their careless handling of said toys. The other kids disliked me, and soon enough, so did my parents; I had to live on my own ever since, using whatever I could find for shelter. *he stops for a second* "But that's enough about me, what about you?"
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