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?)) Gereon wiped the sweat from his nape with a gloved hand as he moved to sit down, his gear jingles slightly as he did so -- "Inquisitor Gereon Guttmacher. I've been sent to investigate the strange occurrences in this town. I am here to uncover the truth. If you have any information that may be of use to me, I suggest you share it now."
He'd shortly after reach a hand behind his long leather jacket to dig into the pocket, pulling out the Holy Inquisition insignia, flashing it briefly before returning it to the pocket.
