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.”
"Ohoho… expectin’ me, were ya?!" He takes a moment to look around at the damp, dark tent before looking back at the hag “Funny thing, that. Most folks don’t expect ol’ Thimblegrin until i'm in they'e face makin em answer a riddle o' three" He hops onto the cushion, legs dangling, and leans forward eyeing the lady "But I guess I can tell ya my story since you asked so polite‑like…. SO listen closely" He clears his throat dramatically "“I’m Thimblegrin. Tollmaster of bridge over yonder. Keeper of riddles, and collector of shiny things that don’t belong to me. Anyone wants to cross my bridge, they gotta answer a riddle o' three. Answer right, they pass. Answer wrong…” He grins, showing far too many teeth for someone so small. “…well, let’s just say I gets me some more trinkets.” Chuckling to himself before going quiet for a moment "ehh yer probably askn about my past though.. Welp! When I was young I was different from my siblins, I liked coin and trinkets more than fightn! So I wandered around l stealin, thievin, robin whatever I could get before settling under my bridge, and comin up with the idea of becomin tollmaster n makin people give me things before I decided to make them answer my riddles” He swings his feet in silence for a second before saying “WELL! I told you want you wanted to hear! So answer me this, what do ya want from ol’ Thimblegrin?”
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