Worply

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?))
 

Gentry's face lights with a flush of red as he registers the woman's words, not a second slips by before he blurts out "dingy is an understatement" reeling back, his face doubles its shade of red hot embarrassment "s-sorry" he stammers out, "please forgive me" he says while taking a tentative step towards the cushion, stiffly sitting down.

clearing his throat he says, "to tell you the truth, I'm not too sure, this place, among many others, fits a fragment of a memory I have long since lost. To make matters worse I've lost these memories willingly" Taking a breath, and looking at the floor, he continues, "you see, to put it bluntly, I am a rather eccentric gambler, of course it started with trinkets and items as a child, money as a teenager and even more money as a young adult. I won some, but lost even more, and eventually I lost it all."

Taking a pause again his eyes wander the room, seemingly attempting to find the proper words to convey such a situation. "eventually, as most addictions do, it broke me, I lost it all, monetarily of course, after such a blow, one would think there was nowhere else to go except a shallow unmarked grave, or even in a ditch along a carriage way. I thought the same until I was approached by a very persuading man, a man whos name I've lost, whether that was by his design or my own I do not know, but he introduced me to a much much darker form of gambling, one I couldn't resist"

Fully entranced in his own story Gentry continues. "you see there is a special "club" of sorts, one that deals with men willing to gamble the very thing that gives others the will to keep going. Memories, I spent my recent years throwing away most of them, not aware that no matter how many small victories I earned, I lost more times that I quite literally remembered, those days are over now, I have fragments of things that feel like someone else's life, and I'm forced to follow any tangible crumb left behind that may bring back any sort of what I have lost, that is why I'm here."

with a deep sigh Gentry concludes his tale, his eyes returning back to the floor, his face still showing hints of red.