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.”
The man exhales, adjusting his cloak. His voice is steady, low.
"I'm a merchant. Spent my life on the road, trading, bartering—honest work, most of the time. Came from the North, a small village you wouldn’t know. Cold winters, harsher people."
His fingers press against his knee.
"But that ain’t why I’m here." His jaw tightens. "I’m looking for my family. My nephews. The Winchesters. Heard whispers, followed the trail, and it led me to this... place."
His gaze locks onto hers.
"You know something. So tell me."
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