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?))
"You have been expecting...me?"
Although Neo-Neach's expression remains ever obscured, the uneasy whispers emanating from his steel helmet and his hesitance to step closer suggest nothing less than severe perplexion. He fumbles his way forward haphazardly, uncertain in his steadiness with his sight diminished, and lowers himself onto the cushion with an excessive wariness. His surroundings receive one last cursory glance before he answer's the hag's simple question. His tone proves just as shaky as his movements.
"Story, my story..." he mumbles to himself, voice muffled by a thick layer of metal, "I imagine people typically have a rather confident answer to this question, don't they? But I'm afraid I don't remember my own, well...My anything."
Blatantly discomforted by the reminder of his hollow identity, Neach readjusts his posture anxiously and gives the tent's exit a brief glance back in consideration.
"If you- If you know anything, ma'am-- about who I am, about this damned helmet stuck on my head --I'd ask that you tell me now.
You must understand. It's a difficult life being nobody."
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