Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Lucan shifts on the cushion, the dim candlelight catching in his grey eyes as he considers the hag’s words. He comes from far-off lands across the open sea, places shaped by salt wind and long voyages, where whale hunting was not just a trade but a way of life. He speaks of years spent aboard wooden decks, of learning to read the water and the sky, and of a storm that shattered his ship and scattered his crew to the depths. Waking alone on an unfamiliar shore, he followed the marsh roads until they led him here. He meets her gaze again, his voice steady despite the weight behind it. “I didn’t seek this town out,” he says, “but the sea has a way of carrying a man where he’s meant to be.”
Recommended Comments