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?))
“I’ts not much of a story, miss,” you say, voice thin and careful. “Just an old gnome who’s seen too many roads and not many homes. Been walkin’ from town to town, keepin’ my head low. The tall folk… they don’t much take notice of me, and I’d rather it stay that way.” You let out a shaky laugh, eyes darting up to her face, then away again. “Lost my home many years back. Lost near everything, truth be told. So now I sleep where I can, under porches, behind barrels, in the grass if it’s warm enough. All of that to say I don’t look where I’m going, I’m just going. I guess you could stay fate brought me here or maybe my feet brought me. But if you’ve been expectin’ me, maybe it’s not my feet, but fate indeed.”
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