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 stench was the first thing that hit her, a thick wall of rot and wet earth so different from the familiar city smog. Kiria’s upper lip curled in disgust as her boots sank into the damp ground. She moved with a practiced quietness, her eyes scanning the dilapidated shacks with a professional’s assessment—no decent locks, no second stories, nothing of worth. Ducking into the tattered tent felt like admitting defeat.
Her gaze adjusted quickly to the candlelight, and she instinctively mapped the space: one exit, flimsy walls, and the old woman at the back. When the hag spoke, Kiria’s body tensed, her mind racing through a list of possibilities. Expected me? Is this a trap? A new client? Did someone talk? She didn't believe in destiny, only in contacts and contracts. With a careful, deliberate slowness, she sat on the cushion, choosing one that didn't look completely soaked through and gave her a clear path back to the entrance.
"Expected me?" Kiria echoed, her voice a low, steady murmur that held no hint of fear. "A lot of people do. It usually means they want something they can't get themselves." She gave a slight, humorless smile, her city-dweller's confidence acting as a shield.
"My story isn't one for campfires or prophecies," she began, deciding to lay some cards on the table. "I'm from the city. A real one, not mud and sticks. There, I was... a specialist. A girl who could acquire things. If a wealthy client wanted a jewel from a locked vault, or a document from a guarded office, they came to me. The rooftops were my roads, locks were just puzzles. It was a good business."
She leaned forward slightly, her expression hardening. "But my last job got complicated. The item was more important than my client let on, and the person I stole it from is… influential. The kind of person who doesn't forgive, and who has eyes everywhere in the city. I became a loose end."
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