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?))
He sat by the fire, poking the flames. His white hair caught the light, and his brown tunic was worn from travel.
“I’ll tell you how it all started,” he said. “I was very young back then. Left outside my parents’ door, all alone. I might’ve died if no one had found me.”
He rubbed his hands, eyes fixed on the fire.
“A woman named Gargol found me. She looked familiar, though I didn’t know why. She kept me safe and fed me well. I liked porridge, bread, and cold berries. The mountain was always cold.”
He leaned forward, fingers brushing the ground.
“I had to walk through deep snow just to find firewood. My breath made clouds in the freezing air. When I left, I hugged Gargol tight and promised I’d repay her someday.”
He lifted his leg and smiled faintly.
“One day, I slipped on ice but caught myself on a rock and laughed. The world felt strange and new. I saw strange animals and tasted new foods.”
He looked up at the stars and pulled a smooth stone from his pocket.
“Then I went east. Until I found you.”
His smile was small but his eyes held the weight of his past.
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