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?))
With an inquisitive quirk of a brow, Rheia gently sets herself down on the cushion and rests on her knees. She starts to fix her posture, her back straightens and her shoulders roll back. Anxious, her fingernails tapped against the wooden table rough surface before Rheia breaths in through her gut, and releases a deep sigh. “If you insist, ma’am.” Maintaining a calm composure, Rheia begins her speech. “I was one of three children- the youngest sister to my two elder brothers. I hold them, along with my mother and father, very dear to my heart.” Rheia takes a moment to close her eyes, and recall her loved ones. “It’s with great sorrow that I must confess all but my mother have passed due to-“ they hide their scowl with a cough before continuing. “Due to those corrupt with power.” With a melancholic look in her eyes, Rheia gives a polite smile to the elder woman in front of her. “And even with all my prayers- even justice to their perpetrator cannot bring them back. So-- by exploring the world outside my small village I hope I can find a way to mend my grieving heart.”
