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?))
Sigsmund sits down opposite of the stranger welcoming him, glancing at the woman secretly. "Yes, uhm I've been told this place..." He looked around furrowing his eyebrows and sniffing the surroundings, displeased with the smell, but choosing to ignore it. "was right for me..?" He pointed out, almost saying it like he was asking a question and not responding. He'd gracefully run his hand through his hair, fixing all the on-the-run hairs back into his neat slick back. "This place, it reminds me of my village. It is so moist and dark.. But it has this warm and welcoming hue. I don't know what to think about it." The man would talk to himself, not being louder than the slight gust of wind on the outside of the tent, swinging the tarp, that is simultaneously the "walls" and "roof" of it. "I feel like I can start over here. I grew up in the Kingdom of Auan, more accurately in the Dutchy of Minitz and a little ways from the city of Kanunsberg. My mother, Catharine, named me after the Prophet or the Exalted of the Canonist Church!" He'd almost exclaim to the poor lady, staring at him like he is a lunatic. He continues. "Me and my brother, Friederich never knew our father, we were always too scared to ask. The only thing we got from him was this guide to brewing, a thin book with maroon coloured covers made of sheepskin. We were raised by my mother and grandmother. They taught me how to cook and bake, but my brother was never fond of such things. He rather ate!" Sigsmund chuckled looking up quickly into nothing, almost reminiscing in the memories. "Sometimes, late at night I used to hear my grandmother telling my mother how Friederich looks and acts exactly like my father. But my grandmother soon passed away from old age. She was 76 years old. My mother got lonely and depressed. She only had us two and we weren't much of use, we were kids! One morning after me and my brother woke up, she was gone. I had thought she went out to pick some berries and such but she had never returned. So she left my 10 year old self and my 13 year old brother in an every-man-for-himself scenario. But we grew stronger together, doing all kinds of work you don't expect children doing. We raised our own cattle and veggies, we picked berries and fished and even made clothes. Along the way I stopped being religious. I questioned The Creator and I was kind of angry at him. I was really scared." Sigsmund looks down on his lap, eyes becoming all teary he even sniffed a couple of times, like one does when upset. But he continued. "I started asking myself questions such as "Why am I here?" and "What's the purpose of it all?" And I am actively searching for answers now. I'm thinking of joining the NGS, maybe even to research something other than my philosophical questions. I may be an outcast for not following the religion of my fellow Aunic folk and they won't even treat me as human. But I feel like this is the thing for me. This IS me. I want to question.." He stands up, shakes the woman's hand, corrects his mustache with a slight gesture with his hand, going from below his nose to the chin. He ducks on his way out and goes out to find a new life.