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.”
He approached with caution, hesitation in every step. But the moment he saw what he was facing, it became clear there was nothing to fear. He didn’t believe for a second that the woman had been expecting him; the act was too rehearsed. He called her out for trying too hard. She only smiled in response.
Still, he relented. As much as he kept himself isolated from others, he knew some company might do him good.
For once, it’s not trying to kill me, he thought.
“Fine, I’ll talk,” he said, “but I won’t like it.”
"He had worked in mercenary work, hired often because he was cheap, moving from place to place, fight after fight. Eventually, during one battle, he suffered an accident and was struck so hard that his armor fused to his body, holding his bones together and keeping him alive. From that moment on, he would never be able to take it off again for the rest of his life."
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