Cyclix7

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?))
Nuvondo looking around cautiously thinking there is nothing to lose begins his story "There is not much to tell" he spoke seemingly quite direct. "Parents ditched me onto a ship when i was still a wee lad, where i was raised"

his mind seems to wonder. "Being raised a slave, you find out how terrible people are..."

"They made me do all sorts of horrible things... from cleaning the barnacle off the bottom of the ship to disposing of the bodies that were plagues by disease" he pauses, looking around nervously as he tries to hide the shudder in his hands.

His gaze went to the old women. "it was quite difficult, I don't know whether it was luck or fate, but one night the shipwrecked on some rocks close to shore, I was the only one to survive the ordeal, I ran and ran until i stumbled upon this place, now all that's left is to start over, a new beginning"

once he had uttered the last of the story his whole demeanour seemed to shift, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.