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?))
Cirya would sit down on the old wooden chair beside the old lady and spoke in a mature woman voice
"My name is Cirya Kyela Gilwen, I am part of a family of 5 and the youngest of my two big brothers, Markus and Walter Gilwen. My mother and father, Mary and Lyle Gilwen, are farmers while my brothers were bandits and swordmen." The old woman would gesture for her to continue with a kind smile. "Few days ago, a storm came over the farmland and my family had to flee the land in search for a new one by boat across the ocean, but as the storm gotten worse, I was knocked off the boat and got swept away while my family screamed and tried to get me back. After I washed up at the swamp lands, I woke up from the muddy grass and a sword was beside me, it was probably my brothers, and I looked around until I saw this town and that's how I got here and that's where my story ends. The old lady would speak in a kind voice, "Well, i'm sorry to hear that dear and I hope you find a way to survive out there in this world of crulety and shame". Cirya would smile and speak, "Thank ma'am for letting me in your humble home for the night.
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