thankfulforks

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?))

Fingers hovering over the dagger at her left hip, Llidel warily steps into the tent, screwing her eyes as they adjust to the dim lighting. She glances around to ensure the shadows of the tent are empty and, when satisfied, perches flat on her feet next to the cushion, able to spring up and flee at any moment. "My story?" She scoffs, her unease growing with every passing second. "I thought this was a business deal."

But the old woman continues to stare in silence, so Llidel reluctantly obliges. "Never had a father. My mother raised me and my older brother herself. She tended to us during the day, and at night... well, she did what she had to do to support us. One night, she never came back." Llidel grits her teeth, not from the pain of her past but her unease at divulging this information to a stranger. But if it would help her secure this deal...

"My brother took care of me after that. He taught me everything—how to make hits, how to blend in. How to make connections." She raises her eyebrows. "So that brings me here. What exactly is it that you want? I can do anything if you pay me high enough."