farmar258

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?)) “My name is Amalia,” she began softly, her voice faltering slightly, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. In front of the old witch sat a small, thin woman whose face bore traces of exhaustion and old wounds. “I come from a small farm high in the mountains. Life there was hard, but it had its rules, its rhythm. We were poor, but together with my family, we resisted the frost and drought and had a home and hope.” She paused, and as her gaze dropped to the ground for a moment, it seemed as if mold was creeping around the pillow – a dark sign of what she had lost. “And then the war came,” she continued finally, her voice sounding more like an echo. “They said they would protect us, that we would be safe. But when the soldiers arrived…” She stopped, her eyes darkening, as if ancient flames and smoke were rekindling in them. “My home burned down. And with it, everyone I had ever loved.” Amalia’s hand trembled for a moment, but then she quickly withdrew it. She had no tears left – or at least she hoped she had already shed them. Now she was merely a wanderer without purpose, without meaning. “Since then, I have been wandering,” she continued. “Looking for something that would give me a reason to go on. A glimmer of hope. Perhaps a new home, perhaps just answers.” She lifted her eyes and met the gaze of the old witch. The witch’s wrinkled eyes were fixed on her intently, as if seeing deep into her soul. “Perhaps I came here because I have nowhere else to go. Perhaps something guides me forward, even though I don’t know why. But… if you were expecting me, maybe you can give me an answer?”

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?)) "Ehm, good morning wise lady. It is an honor to be in your presence" she said with slight nervousness but respectfully bowing to her. "My name is Amalia Moran and I pass through here on my travels" she waited for a while to see if she introduced herself and after a while continued on. "I'm on the road trying to find a place to set up new home" she said and than stopped and sighed. "I lived on a farm with my parents and we lived a normal country life. We didn't live badly, you know. The war was avoiding us and we already thought that nothing bad could happen to us" it was obvious that she was having trouble telling the story. "One day my father sent me to the forest for firewood. Of course I went, but after I finish this task, I headed back and noticed this smoke..." she stopped and continued after a while. "Our farm was on fire!!!" she shouted suddenly. "When I saw it, I hurried home, but it was already too late. The house and barn were on fire and next to the well...next to the well..." she stopped again, and she could see that the recollection was causing her distress. "There was a mother with her throat cut and a father covered in blood and injuries next to her. It was too late he was dying! All he managed to say was: promise me you'll settle down. You will get married and have children." she was already starting to cry when she stopped. "And so I promised him! And now here I am, on my way to fulfill the promise I made to my father"

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?)) "Ehm, good morning wise lady. It is an honor to be in your presence" he said with slight nervousness but respectfully bowing to her. "My name is Alexandr Moran and I pass through here on my travels" he waited for a while to see if she introduced herself and after a while continued on. "I'm on the road trying to find a place to set up new home" he said and than stopped and sighed. "I lived on a farm with my parents and we lived a country normal life. We didn't live badly, you know. The war was avoiding us and we already thought that nothing bad could happen to us" it was obvious that he was having trouble telling the story "One day I went into the forest near the farm. I had a wooden sword there that I made and used to train with. My father didn't like to watch fencing, so I preferred to go to the forest to train. When I finished my workout I headed back when I noticed this smoke..." he stopped and continued after a while. "Our farm was on fire!!!" he shouted suddenly. When I saw it, I hurried home, but it was already too late. The house and barn were on fire and next to the well...next to the well..." he stopped again, and she could see that the recollection was causing him distress. "There was a mother with her throat cut and a father covered in blood and injuries next to her. It was too late he was dying! All he managed to say was: promise me you'll settle down. You will build a farm, get married and have children. Promise me that my name will continue with dignity!" he was already starting to cry when he stopped. "And so I promised him! And now here I am, on my way to fulfill the promise I made to my father"

Good day, my lord! I believe that the third of your ideas will be the right one in my case. I arrived in your beautiful city in order to find my place and prove something. To get a place in a respected household or to find a love that will take me to the end of my days. I believe this is what every good young lady would like to achieve. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to leave because I'm expected to be elsewhere in short time. Have nice day, my lord and God bless you. Then she bows slightly and walks away towards the market full of people...