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?))
Adelaide's gaze hardens. She looks meek but has a sudden intensity as she speaks up.
"I heard you were the person to come to when someone needs help." She raises her chin. "I clearly need help."
"I had to get away," Adelaide starts to explain, repositioning herself on the dusty cushion, a little poof of dust rising and dissipating.
"It's the only way I could pursue my dreams." She pauses a moment for the Hag to ask questions, but when the silence lingers, Adelaide continues. Her hands ball into fists in her lap as the words tumble out of her mouth.
"My father was a line cook for Petra's military, and he trained me, expecting I should follow in his footsteps. But I can't stand the war camps. The muck, the smell of blood... no. It was not for me. So I ran away, defected. I plan to move, join the kingdom of Burgundy. There, I WILL become a pastry chef for royalty! I have the skills, I just need the chance." Her final word hangs clearly in the air, and she boldly meets the Hags eyes. Her green eyes glint in the suspended candle light.
"So... will you help?"
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