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?))
Just as a preface I'm writing my character's dialect as pseudo-Scots, I speak Scots. If required I can rewrite in English DM me if so but it's mostly English grammar so should be fine
"Well, am sure ye hae been, bit ma story really isnae special." Sistral looks for a moment at the withered cushion with disdain, saying, "No, thanks bit ah willnae stay long"
The old woman shrugs slightly, and leans forward to listen
"See, there's this forest a wee bit north o'ere, that ma clan calls hame. I sell ah'th' products o'th' forest, fur a cost 'course"
He pauses, seeing the hag's disinterest, and goes closer. The bronze buckle on his pouch makes an irritating chatter with every step he makes
"Us, we wir a prestigious folk, an we wir daein fine fur oorselfs, but ye ken hoo times are noo, an we hulf tae make ends meet"
Her face hasn't changed, and he gathers that she isn't going to buy anything. The candles flicker and a campfire outside crackles. For a moment he takes it all in, before starting again:
"I see ah'd better fin' somewhere else tae gang for th'night, ah'll be off then"
He turns slowly and walks again along the damp floor of the tent, coming outside to see that the rain has picked up again. This is going to be a long day.
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