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?))
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation. You decided to sit down, "You want my story huh?" you spoke while trying to make your self comfortable. After a few second you give up trying. You sigh "I'm simply a blacksmith looking for a place to set up as home. I've just left my home village where I grew up and trained with my father in the art of blacksmithing." as you are speaking you have a faint smile remembering all the mischief you got as a child, "I used to play pranks and mischief on my older brother," laughing you exclaim "HA I used to get so many whooping's from my father for them to!" You finish speaking with a sigh and your smiling begins dimming, "But after I grown and finished learning, I felt that there was more out there form me. So one evening I just packed up all my stuff and said goodbye to my family and went on my way" you mutterd as you remember the tearful departing between you and your mother. "And that's my story....." you said as you looked the old crone in the eye.
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