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?))
Galhad would gently push aside the tent flap, amethyst eyes scanning the room inquisitively as he entered - though he was briefly interrupted as he coughed, waving away at the smoke generated by the candles. Eventually after recovering himself he would put on a broad smile - focus now fully on the crone lurking toward the tents back. "What brings me-?" He would begin, fully prepared to answer, before being a bit taken aback by the sudden declaration of already being known. A bit deflated by the answer he would go to reluctantly take a seat on the offered cushion - elbow to knee as he rested his chin on an open palm, pouting.
"-Well clearly you already know my story, so I suppose this is just for entertainment?" He would mumble, before eventually dismissing whatever thoughts were going through his head, clearing his throat - straightening his back and gesticulating along with his words. "I'm from a small family of merchants - you wouldn't know them... I think - but that is besides the point. What is more relevant is the fact that nobody else really knew us, and that is not great for a buisness. Eventually that became more apparent as we had all but run out of it and now, well... The family could not support all the mouths it was feeding and I was the oldest child, so off we go to figure things out... As we go! Really quite simple, isn't it?"
