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 stop short, one hand half-raised like I might bolt.
“…I don’t know you,” I say flatly, eyes narrowing as I glance from her face to the floating candles. “So let’s not pretend this is some friendly reunion.”
I don’t sit right away. Eventually I lower myself onto the edge of the cushion, tense.
“I came into town because the road ran out and the swamp didn’t care,” I continue. “That’s it. No prophecies, no appointments.” A pause. “At least, not on my end.”
I meet her gaze, steady but wary.
“So if you’ve been ‘expecting’ me,” I add, a hint of edge in my voice, “you might want to explain why. Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a stranger in a tent full of tricks—and I don’t tell my story to strangers for free.”
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