vwils

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?))
 

Entering the town, Andrew grasped the strap of his leather satchel tightly, his eyes scanning the town around him; he had no way of telling if the local populace would be friendly. The town was small, and smelled of musk and decay, being situated in a damp swamp. This environment was unfamiliar for Andrew, hailing from the Heartlander cities, so stench was nearly unbearable for him. He held his shirt up to his nose, hoping the fabric would stop the smell from overpowering him. Eventually, he came to a tattered tent, which he would duck and step into, seeking a moment of rest from his restless wandering. After all, he was quite a ways out from the city. He was almost startled upon abruptly hearing the old lady's voice, but composed himself quickly and answered,
 

       "Expecting... me?" He tilted his head upon hearing this, before continuing to sit down, 'criss-cross-applesauce' on the ground. "There's not much to tell you, really." He tilted his head down slightly, rubbing his chin with his right hand. "My name is Andrew Fyrdrink, and I hail from the heartland cities. I lived an ordinary life; I worked, I fought, and I rested. But, I simply decided that life in the city was too restrictive, in the sense that.. " He paused, scratching his head and taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "In the sense, I suppose, that when you live in a city, you are forced to be subservient to the lords above you, and to those in higher classes. I thought that, perhaps, leaving the city and wandering the lands far from it would grant me the freedom to choose my own path." He paused again, before looking back up at the old lady. "I assume the other wanderers that stumble into your tent have more interesting stories to tell you." Andrew cracked a slight smile, slowly shaking his head. "What did you mean, though, when you said you were 'expecting me'?"