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?)) The weary man eyes the hag before giving into the her suggestion, thanks to the soreness of his travels. He adjusts his coat and he makes himself comfortable as he burrows his backside into the cushion. "A story of a lonesome man? Surely--, it's not that lonesome in this village." He cackles quietly to himself before coughing up into his sleeve and calming himself. "I've been dealing with a series of misfortunes for the better part of the last five years of my life. No better way for a simple sailor to live no?" He pauses briefly before speaking back up to question the hag. "Before I go deeper into my story, you wouldn't happen to have some sort of herbal teas laying within your home?"
