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?))
The large man would take the offer for rest with no hesitation, grunting as he sat himself down. For a moment, he'd enjoy the feeling of relief from getting off his feet. "Well," he started, his thick northern accent sharpening his pronunciations some. "I 'sppose it'd be better told with a drink." Brynn smiled some, as best he could manage in the strange environment, and pulled at his travel bag. From it he would take out a large water skin and pop the top off. "Good stuff this," the highlander said while offering the skin to the hag. He wouldn't mind sharing. He's shared with dirtier.
"My story ain't much interesting, truth be told ma'am. My mum an' da come from the north, small village. They peddled textiles. Mostly wool. Father tended the sheep, mother weaved their fleece into usable material. When I were born, they had been doing their trade for years. By then they were operating a local shop, and supplying caravans with goods too. Meant I got to travel when I came of age." Brynn would take a swig of the fine lager he kept in his skin and took a breath. "While my parents made goods, I was sent to sell them for our family. Avoided the middleman costs, and saw to my growing. I've been every which way and once my parents passed, traveling had been submitted in my blood." Brynn shrugged though, a touch of hesitation on his face. "That said, someone like me can't make money by just being a wayward. So I settled down, mostly. Opened an inn, and traveled by proxy." The man chuckled, nodding to himself. "Oh yeah, I welcome all folk into my inns when I can. It's the stories!" The highlander paused, glancing at the old woman. "Which, I'm sure ye understand. Either way. What precious traveling I do myself is for things like this. To meet with elders and gather their stories. In hopes of passing them on to others."
Brynn grinned, offering the skin back to the woman again. "So, how about it. Tell me your story."
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