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?))
Example:
"Me? Well, arent I lucky!" Harald responds in an ironic tone, smirking at the woman.
He lets himself drop onto an old, damp log, grabbing a cup from a small table that looks poorly hand-made. He looks into it, realising its empty and sets it back, his lips forming a swift frown.
"We came here to restock. We were out on sea for three nights without food, only salty water." He says quietly, twiddling his thumbs.
"Looks like you dont have much, either...", Harald mutters, drops of water slowly falling from the ceiling.
"This winter has been tough for our people. All nearby villages totally burnt down, dried out and dead. Any chance of looting gone, therefore no supplies for us." Harald says, his face turning a sour and sinister look.
"Our people are thinning out by the day. We will need any help we can get. Me and my cousin, Fenris, will make sure of it." He says, his eyebrows pointing down, however with a smirk on his face, hitting his index finger on the small table.
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