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?))
"Oh! I didn't know this tent was occupied miss, I am dreadfully sorry." Roran looks back outside the tent for a second before taking himself a seat. "Thank you for your hospitality as I've become very tired traveling. You see, my father lives a few days trek from here and recently has become ill. I being young and strong offered to go in search for medicine although my mother said otherwise. She forbade me from going home, telling me that father's time is near and so is hers and that I must set out and find a life for myself in the world. I am unsure madam if I am doing the right thing, I still want to go home and take care of father and mother but...is she right? Am I where I am suppose to be out here? I suppose there is only one way to find out." Roran lets out a ling winded sigh and gets to his feet. "Thank you for letting me rest here but I must move on. I am told there are places with actual cities not too far from here and I would like to see them for the first time. Farewell old madam!" Roran turns and tightens his pack on his shoulders before marching out of the tent and down the road once more, a whistling tune from his lips.
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