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?))
Example:
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
sigh, I've never really had family, the kind your related too at least. I'm from a desolate, northern, land, where people would fight each other for the minimal necessities one needs to survive. But I left, I adventured south to escape this cycle of violence. I don't want to survive if there's nothing to fight for... I forged a comrade in Try Wood, who showed me kindness at my darkest hour of my travels. Ever sense I've loyally stuck with him, on all his travels. I hope to find myself in this overwhelming tornado, and let the winds guide me to purpose. My lute begins to slip form my bag, I dance around my thumbs for 10 seconds, staring deeply into the gaps in my hand. I'm battling with the water attempting to flood from my eyes before hastily getting up and leaving the room, ignoring the hag's calls of for me to elaborate.
(sorry about the font I copied it from my discord dm's sense I was setting up and had it in there with my friend and my i had to redo my application, I tried to fix it but its still wonky.)
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