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?)) Example:
"I've come from a ways away." Nate pauses, watching the hag's gaze size him up, the man's spine chills to the core. "So you've heard, then?" Exhaling lightly, the man takes a seat on the offered cushion, his hands never seem to leave his side, where a blade had been tucked snug in it's sheath. "I grew up a farmers boy. I was promised my fathers farm, and all his wealth along with it. When I was just a boy, I watched my family's wealth go up in flames, my father, along with it. My mother became estranged, and my siblings? They ran as far as they could, and never looked back. I was left on my own devices. I had to make a meager living off the land; I hunted, I farmed, I prepped... Eventually, my prowess as a survivalist became known to one and all. Being one with nature, it was better that way. Perhaps this was all meant to happen for a reason."
The man exhaled again, releasing his grip from his sheathed weapon. Moving to set his hands folded on his lap.
"I've traveled far and wide, Seen a lot. But nothing quite like this."
