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?))
Sylvadore regards the old woman carefully, before taking a seat. He takes a short breath, before jumping into another of his drawn out, likely highly embellished tales: "I was once a roadside storyteller and bard. I travelled far and wide, between all the great settlements of human civilization, spreading merriment and tales of grand adventures." He grins slightly towards the woman, "Of course, that was a long time ago. I had once found myself at the mercy of a nobleman's fury, he didnt take kindly to a particular joke I had made regarding his choice of tacky decor..." Sylvadore clears his throat, "needless to say, I was briefly jailed and upon my release found myself quite unwelcome in the region. I returned to live with my family for several decades; in this time, I penned numerous novels and tales of my past accolades and glory, though I can't say any sold more than a modest number. Now I've run out of stories, so I am returning out into the world to find new ones and once more bless humanity and the wider world with the greatest entertainment and joy they have ever borne witness to. It is funny though..." Sylvadore says uncomfortably. "My jokes don't seem to be hitting the way they used to..."
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