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?))
"I am Magnus Lethe, but you can call me Mag." I sit in front of the old hag. I hesitate a bit, but I believe that telling her about my story is not a problem If she was waiting for me. "My parents where overprotective and maintained me inside a cave most of my whole life. Only a month ago, I decided to leave home and explore. This is actually one of the only villages I have ever seen, so I was a bit surprised with the difference from the other ones I have been to. I didn't even know what ice was before leaving home, so I shouldn't be surprised. Well, that's my story."
Recommended Comments