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?))
"My story?" The young woman, Ecaeris, flashes a smile. She lowers herself down onto the cushion, legs crossed, back straight. She looks a little tense. "Forgive me, I've never met someone so forward. My name is Ecaeris." She studies the face of the old hag, narrowing her eyes. "-But you already knew that, didn't you?" She doesn't wait for a response, instead she shifts where she is sat, allowing her hands to rest in her lap. Her lips, dry and cracked from a lack of water, part, and she speaks again, nonchalant. "I'll tell you all you need to know. My brother is dead, my father is starving and my mother is... well, Gods know where she is. I've been travelling for days to get here, and by the looks of things, this place offers me nothing." Ecaeris abruptly rises, turning on her heel. She speaks over her shoulder, her voice low. "I refuse to waste any more time here." With that, she moves to leave.
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