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?))
"Uhh, who are ya?" He asked, with a confused expression. He has never seen this old lady, yet it reminded him of a familiar person. After thinking a bit, he'd kneel down on the cushion, taking off his backpack. "Well, I come from afar. I was part of a big clan, we were a nomadic clan. Every now and then we switched places to live: we'd ask the wisest member where to go, and we'd follow his instructions. Recently, big conflicts have afflicted the clan, even bringing in a sort of civil war. I knew the downfall of the clan was coming, so I decided to start an adventure and leave for new kingdoms to hopefully find a stable home. The clan's training was harsh. We needed to be extremely agile and extremely able with weapons. The leader had a super strict rulebook, and there were severe consequences if you didn't follow it. One of the rules, exactly rule 43, is to not talk about the cult, so right now im running a big risk. They have eyes everywhere. Don't doubt them."
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