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 youth would take a deep and long drag from his rolled cigarette as he entered the tent, figuring the smoke he'd soon release from his lungs would make the experience all the more mystical with a vague fog submerging the both of them. Tommy couldn't help himself from huffing in amusement once, as if this felt more like an odd trip on the mushrooms his uncle used to put in the stew at one of his birthdays. His arrogant smirk would turn widen and become toothy, as he'd proudly roll his shoulders back and straighten himself out as if he was immensely important. "Ah' figured,- cheers dove." He'd kill the cigarette he was smoking by rubbing it onto the bottom of his boot until the embers would stop forming fireflies at every rub.
"If ye tell anyone, yer ded. Ah'm sure that crystal ball of yers has told ye as much so ye can expect that too." Tommy sassily kissed his teeth to make a soft "tsk" noise before he'd wink at her as if he was only playing.. though knowing the young ruffian, it was probably half on half. "Anyway, ah've always been as poor as they've come, innit? Me parents were... ehhh, not exactly yer upper-middle-class.. more like-, well, ah'll jus' be blunt." He'd hold a dramatic pause for a moment as he'd perform a small wiggle with his eyebrow for extra effect. "Smugglers." He then tipped his head from left to right as he'd consider his next words. "Used our heritage te' move freely between places, easy te push goods if they expect ye' te travel a lot. So das wot we did, innit? Make friends wif a lot of different people, don' really matter wot race as long as we cud make some coin off of 'em, ye get me?"
Tommy then sniffled his nose as he went to sit back in his seat, or better said, hang back in his seat as if he was sitting in the back of class in high school and wanted to impress the new girl with his thug lean. "Me dad taught me 'ow not te' get caught, me mum taught me 'ow te make em not wanna catch ye. Simple,- ah might bareleh know 'ow te read bot' ah can convince e' bird te' toss me 'er eggs, innit?" He'd boast with pride, and yet regardless of how stupidly overconfident this ruffian is, he was so full of himself he genuinely believed it. "Me dad told meh one day, son,- there's sommink more valuable than anythin' we've ever smuggled.." He'd widen his smirk again as if what he was going to say was more clever than anything he could think of any time soon. "Information.. n' so, 'ere I am, lookin' fer intel te smuggle as a.. travelin' broker of sorts."
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