OnParole44

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?))

The flames of the candles did not flicker even as the breeze of the damp night air drifted through the various tears in the tent's tattered fabric. Emmeric nods to the elderly woman in respect, letting the fabric of the tent fall back down behind him as he stepped inside. The space is quite cramped, so he takes a seat on an old pillow before the hag. "Ma'am," he begins, voice low even in the quiet. "It's been a while. I've been all over the continent since we last met." Emmeric procured a small pouch from his pack, the coins inside jingling as he put it on the ground before the hag. "I've met an enemy I cannot fell alone. I need your help once more." The air hummed with magic, the damp air seeming to buzz inside of the tent with potential. Emmeric took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, the scent of rotted wood filling his lungs as he prepared himself to fall into a dream.