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?))
My eyes dart across the room, checking for any potential exits before I sit. Having dealt with shady dealings in the past, I'm careful to keep my guard up. "I assume you've heard of the search, then? Grimm Sturmstrike, P.I. I'm here investigating a missing persons report, do you happen to recall seeing a halfling matching this description?" I hand a file over to the hag, containing details on the missing person. "This is the third town I've visited, I'm trying to nail down his position, the current theory is that he skipped town to avoid collecting on his debts, so he may be going by a different name. If you see anything, let me know, okay?" The hag doesn't respond, keeping her gaze locked on me. Perhaps, she wasn't referring to my case? "You mean you want me to tell you my own life story? Well, it's a bit of a long-winded one, we might be here a while"
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