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?))
I lower myself onto the cushion, keeping my back straight, every muscle ready to spring if I need it. My fingers brush the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath my robes. “I’m looking for someone… someone who shouldn’t be where they are,” I say, my voice quiet but steady. My blue eyes lock on hers, sharp, unflinching. “They say you know things. I need information, and I’m willing to pay the price.”
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