WastedMilk

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?)) Cyrus slumps down onto the cushion and sits with his legs crossed. "Aye... what isn't there to tell? I just wanted to get away from it all. The busy cities, the now rotting streets, the gaudy nobility. But I just wanted out" He pauses and smiles, leaning forwards, a weird feeling crosses his mind as he feels compelled to tell this old hag his true and honest story. "The nobility treated me like their pawn, tossing me out once my usefulness had been all dried up. Once they acquired their information and used me to climb the social ladder, they then proceeded to laugh in my face when I demanded payment telling me that they've 'no need to waste good coin on peasant trash like you'... what a load of shite..." Cyrus lowers his eyes away and mumbles to himself. "Living in the slums was hard as a child, having to slink into the shadows and pick your fights accordingly, making sure to not piss off the wrong people. Treating each coin like it was the most valuable thing in the whole world. But as I grew up I found that information was much more valuable to anyone willing to pay for it. You'd be quite surprised by the types of people who come to me to find dirt on anyone or anything in the city... wives paying to see if their husbands are unfaithful, political leaders wanting information about their rivals, guards and military officials paying to cover up lies and scams within their ranks. Give a little coin and their problems are solved." Cyrus chuckles, shaking his head, "I find that obeying my clients every needs is what gets me the quickest amount of coin with the least amount of trouble. I do what they ask and in return I keep my mouth shut." He leans back, a sudden feeling of tiredness washes over him as he notices the old hag giving him a piercingly wicked grin. Cyrus passes out and awakes to the tent empty, nothing left inside it except for the cushion he was on.