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?))
He paused, unsure whether to laugh or frown, then gave a slight shrug and lowered himself onto the worn cushion.
"Well, since you asked so nicely…"
He rested his hands on his knees, eyes flicking briefly toward the glowing candles.
"Name’s Darian Godfrey. Born to nothing, fought for a bit of something. I’ve worn a squire’s crest, swung a blade in the mud, and outrun more than a few bad decisions."
His smirk faded, just a little.
"I joke a lot. Makes things easier. But I’m not here by chance—I’ve seen things lately that don’t sit right. Dreams, omens... maybe guilt. Maybe worse."
He looked at her now, more serious than before.
"So if you’ve really been expecting me—then don’t waste our time. Tell me what I need to know."
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