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.”
I hesitate, but something in the hag's gaze compels me to speak. "I seek guidance," I say, taking a seat. "I've come in search of a cure for a curse that plagues my family." Before divulging I readjust myself on the dirty cushion, clearly worn, to appear more confident. "They have angered the Gods and damned my future, my family, what I hope to create and I do not intend to be held back by their mistakes," I take a breath and continue, "I cannot afford to ignore this issue any longer and I need your help..."
The hag's expression shifts into something unreadable. Without saying a word she rises and moves to the back of the tent. I fidget in anticipation.
Weight: 150
Hair: Short, dirty blonde and always tied up
Eyes: Dark green
Outfits: Tattered dresses and sandals
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