Nabingo

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.”


You collapse onto the cushion, exhausted. As you shift on the cushion, you'd eye the hag as if trying to predict their next move. As you scan the woman's face for any signs of malice, you'd utter the words, "I live for myself, not having to rely on anyone else." Your eyes move to the woman's hands, looking for any signs of a weapon. "My family didn't understand that. They dug their own hole. Debt they couldn't repay. Just for a taste of nobility. Now they work day and night, toiling away at a goal they created for themselves." You'd relax further into the cushion, your posture becoming less upright. "They just.." You'd exhale slowly. "They made their choices.. and thought that because I am their blood.. I too would have to live with their choices." You'd begin to shake your head. "They were wrong." Just recalling the events throws you into a slight madness. You scramble to your feet, glaring at the hag as you stumble out of the tent. "Don't know what I was thinking going in there..", you'd mutter under your breath.