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?))
*Looking around the dimly lit and rotted tent, Melchaeus thinks for a moment before speaking* "I have come to provide my services, though I regret to inform you I am not the man you were informed I was, I had to mask my true intentions to procure safe passage here. I was not chosen for this task because of my special circumstances, I was chosen because I was the most convincing applicant who showed up that day... I know the king believes he knows what's best for this 'town' if you can even call it that, but can't you see his sugar coated words are a political wrench? He seeks but to bolster his image whilst he pockets the gold of the ones exploiting you. If your people are to survive, they need to rise up and speak out. The time for action has come and gone, but maybe... just maybe... there's still time left."
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