WeeabooTrashlord

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?)) Aldo's eyes darted around the room, quickly focusing on the woman as she rose to face him; he was clearly unnerved by the woman's words, made apparent by a reflexive step back towards the entrance. Only moments after the man entered this tent, he had already decided he wanted to leave. He responds, "Oh... My story, right... You see, I'm a..." He stalled for a moment to come up with something convincing, as blurting something inappropriate may have consequences. "Right, I'm a... I'm a thief, you see...? Yeah... I came in search of valuables, but there is nothing of worth for me here. So... Yeah..." The genius, wracked with regret and shame, quickly paced away from the creepy woman's tent the moment he stepped outside. Aldo rushed through and out of the town with haste, dreading everything about the surrounding environment. Though he inevitably left his home in search of refuge from the intemperate amount of expectations set upon him by his father, his standards were a pinch higher than slumming it out with living corpses, in a swamp of all places. Pushing through his fatigue, he continued down the path in hopes of discovering a reasonable settlement.