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?))
Example:
He hesitates for a moment, then exhaled slowly. His voice is low, worn, touched by years of dust and cold air.
"I don't tell my story for free..."
He pauses, eyes drifting to the floating candles. A faint smile pulls at the corner of your mouth—not of joy, but of recognition.
"...but it's been a long time since I’ve had someone to tell it to."
He shifts his weight slightly, the worn leather of his coat creaking softly as he settles onto the cushion. His voice stays calm, but there's a rasp to it—like bark scraped thin.
"I came from nothing. Dirt floors, a leaky roof, and empty plates more often than not."
A flicker of something passes behind his eyes—pain, maybe, or just memory.
"When I was just a child, my parents died from an illness that swept through our village like rot on the wind."
His fingers brush against the edge of a pendant tucked beneath his shirt, but he doesn't pull it out.
"No family left. No help came. I had to learn how to fight, how to steal, how to vanish."
He glances briefly at the hag. Not accusatory. Just matter-of-fact.
"Surviving was all I knew. And staying meant dying, So I left."
He leaned forward now, elbows on knees, voice soft but steady.
"I wandered—through woods where whispers followed me, through ruins choked with the past, and villages that chewed up people like me."
A breath catches in your throat, but you swallow it down.
"Exploring wasn’t freedom. It was a necessity. Still is."
He lifts his gaze fully now, eyes locked with hers, voice a little lower, a little sharper.
"So if you want my story, old one, make it worth the telling."
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