Memenade

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?))
 

"Expecting me?" He responds back with a gentle smile, though with a hint of surprise and hesitation in his voice he wasn't able to hide. The creepy, almost run-down atmosphere had already put him on edge. He was far away from the cozy lecture halls of the Helsing University of History. For a moment he was unsure how to proceed, unable to move or say anything else. He tried to act confident, but in reality he couldn't hold his own in a conflict and this town didn't seem to offer anything but opportunities for that. He was glad he was wearing only his plain, traveling cloak, instead of his fancy evening wear. Not only so that they didn't get dirty, he figured it also lessened the chances of getting mugged by some drunk or thief.

"Typically it is me expecting someone at places like this" He finally continued and took a step in the woman's direction. He tried to sound like he wasn't worried at all, but he felt like the strange woman could sense that wasn't the case. He wasn't lying though, it was his job to meet people in their places of residence to learn whatever local history people knew of. Too bad it was usually some jumble of nonsensical local myths and legends each contradicting the last. This woman was creepy and seemed poor, yet he got the feeling that she may actually know a thing or two, definitely more than her dingy tent let on, which instilled a bit of confidence and excitment into him.

After slowly making his way to her he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. He could finally see her clearly and the old wrinkly face with the eyes piercing into his soul made him wince briefly. "I'll go see the real history with my own eyes, instead of reading theories from some book!" He had declared to the stuck-up professors set in their ways, not even entertaning the ideas he had. Though he was still annoyed at his older colleagues he now wondered if the "real history" was worth the dangers he had to go through to see it. It hadn't been like his adventure novels at all!

After he recovered from staring at the old woman for an uncomfortable amount of time he explained to her "There isn't much to my story and I don't seek to change that." He shook his head and looked around as if he was interested what the run-down walls and leaky shingles of the nearby buildings had to offer so he didn't have to look at her face. "But, if you wish to know, I'm an adventurer in seek of knowledge not glory from a place you've not heard from." He continued, though he got the feeling she may have known the place he called home.

He braved a glance of the curious eyes of his creepy companion. As weird as it was that she appeared to know him there was something in her that intrigued him. He had come here to learn the history of this land and here was someone that could potentially help with that. For the meantime he couldn't return home from Aevos, so he couldn't back down from his quest even if he wanted to. So he gathered all his confidence to lean forward in his chair and asked her: "More interesting question is, what's your story?"