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?))
Alidyne breaths in sharply through her nose. She holds back a wince at the outside stench that wafted its way into the tent. She looks at the dingy cushion offered to her and back to the hag. She would rather stay kneeling on the hard floor. "I'm a child of the Creator. My mother was a Haeseni. She was a big believer in faith, so I was raised to be virtuous. My dad on the other hand was a drunkard and an angry one at that. He spent most of his day on the fields. I hate to admit it, but he was smart." Alidyne's lip curled at the compliment to him. "Probably how he kept his job. I learnt a lot from him. How people are on the inside. He passed five years ago." Speaking that into the world had Alidyne hard-pressed not to smile. "Mother died just a couple of months ago. From natural causes, of course." She looked to the hag, feeling as though it was obvious that what she said wasn't true. The weight of what she did made the brief moment between words most stressful. "I find myself in recent weeks turning to The Holy Scrolls."

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