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?))
OOC NOTE: I'm bad at descriptive writing but very good at writing dialog, so that's what you will see most of the time from me.
"well, if you must know, I came from a merchant family, we used to own some land in Johannesburg before it was destroyed...
"Not as nobles though, no, we were moyenne bourgeoisie, not flamboyant, but still above most...
"then many years ago, when Johannesburg was destroyed, we became refugees, and now through years of cunning and good business decisions, we have regained some of our previous wealth. and now, I am the only one of my family that remains, and I swear I will regain the fame and fortune we once had. no matter the cost...
Barlold storms out
