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?))
Tea steps lightly onto the cushion, her clothes damp from the swamp mist. She glances around the candlelit tent before meeting the hag’s gaze.
“My name’s Tea. I was born on a farm far from here —endless fields, same work every day, same sky. My family’s been there forever, bound to the land like roots in dry soil.
But I was different. I saw things others didn’t—shadows that moved wrong, sparks in the dark. When the crops failed and sickness came, I found an old book buried under our oak tree. After I read it, the fields bloomed again… but my village called it witchcraft. My own kin turned me out.”
She pauses, her voice steady despite the weight behind it.
“I followed the river, like the dreams told me. It led me here. To you.”
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