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.”
Roicht:
“I didnt expect anyone here to know me,” she says flatly, her gaze flickering briefly over the crone before narrowing at the dimly lit tent. the musty smell of rotting wood tightening her expression. “Im not one for stories.” a pause, her voice sharpening as she adds, “But if you’ve been expecting me, maybe you have more to say than I do.”
Roicht remains standing a moment longer, assessing the hag with a cool, unreadable expression. Finally, she shifts her weight and moves toward the offered seat, leaning on her elbows. “Ive come a long way for answers. My lineage- there's a curse, a darkness thats tied to it. I need to know what it means. What it wants.”
She leans back, crossing her arms “If you have something to tell me, then speak. I’ll listen.” she says with a firm voice, her piercing gray eyes fixed on the crone with measured curiosity, but there’s something beneath flickering like candlelight- determination, and just the faintest hint of desperation.
(changed it up a little to try and express her nature and behavior, hope that suffices, i really like it so you better too lol)
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