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?))
"Have you, witch? Well here I am, stood before you in the flesh. I won't sit, but I will tell. I come from a land far away from here, and have braved the wastes and the abysmal conditions that you deem to call a town, just to find you. I will walk out of this tent with the information that I want, and you get to decide the fates of everyone else that is in here. So tell me, witch, when did the woman with fire red hair ride through here on her dappled gray mare, and which way did she leave towards?" Vulgrim gives a nasty smile and adjusts the sword on his back, shifting his weight toward his left leg in anticipation. "Go ahead witch, speak"
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