Skoyr

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?))

"Uhm, I came here after my famil-" I plop down onto a wet pillow lying on the ground within the tent. I stutter and reiterate my sentence once again "after my family's farm was burnt down." I clench up and bow my head into my palms before looking her in the eye. "It was my fault, I made a bet with the locals and I lost. I failed to repay them my debts, and for that they went after my family." The old hag jestures for me to continue, but I can barely muster the strength to look her in the eye and mention how I had abandoned my family and fled on horseback. I can't look into her gray puss filled eyes from infection without shedding a tear from the shame I have built up. She then puts her hand on my shoulder before consuling me. "It's okay" she says, "you're safe here."