You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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?))
Ramses raised a brow at the old hag and hummed as he went and sat down leaning back putting one leg over the other "my story?... well aint that the question... I'm traveling to put it simply, finding my trade, but that's yet to be discovered, who knows maybe one day I'll find my calling, maybe ill become rich or maybe not, who knows" the man shrugged with a carefree look
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