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?))
Bastien's eyes, distractedly roaming the room, snap to her as he remembers why he was here. "Right, um... I just got here off the latest ship and..." he shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with eye contact. "Frankly, I know nothing of this land." he straightens his jacket, trying to make it look like it fit him, and not the captain he'd pinched it from. "I was hoping you could do something about this" he pointed to a blackening infection circling his eye. "I have nothing to pay with, but I'll work if you, uh, need stuff done. I dunno what you people do for coin around here" He'd lived as a street urchin all his life, living off scraps of food and sleeping on rooftops. One day a rooftop broke under him, and he fell, cutting his face open in the process. After a few days the cut started getting real infected, but he didn't dare show his face to the local doctor, on account of him stealing from the old bastard so many times. So he snuck onto a ship and ended up here, hoping someone could help without tossing him in a cell.
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