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?))
Krotog's nose wrinkles from the smell of the area as he squints his eyes towards the hag.
"You've been... Expecting me? Well then..."
He moves over and cautiosly lowers himself into the cushion, eyes darting around as he slowly pulls out a piece of paper.
"Well me story is that I'm in need of a job... And I heard ye were offering one. So... What needs to be done then?"
Krotog then offers over the piece of paper 'Help wanted' was written on the top of it, stains covering the paper that barely makes the letters legible, but it was clearly a guide of how one would find themselves inside of this very tent.
What was it that the hag wanted, help? Or perhaps... A victim?
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