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?))
"Me?" He asks. "She knew I was coming..." Val-Vishka ponders to himself as he places himself carefully in the cushion, on the edge should he feel the need to get away. "My story, is it?" He questions out loud. "Well, theres not much to say really... I lived with my family for most of my young life, eventually breaking away and fulfilling my lust for venturing the world. I've seen many things, though not much worth telling. I've been here and there, never settling." Val nervously chuckles, tugging at the sides of his cloak. "Nothing ever really settles." He adds, waiting expectantly for a reply from the hag woman.
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