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: (delete this)
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until the cloudy sky finally breaks into, at first, a drizzle and quickly after a downpour. Rain running off their hair and into their eyes (as well off their jacket into their cheap leather shoes) Robin steps beneath the protection of the tent. It had begun to seem like the only relief from the storm which was clearly just getting started. Brushing her matted hair from her eyes robin stepped towards the chair, cauciously eyeing it up and down. She may be desperate enough to share the tent, but breaking bread would take some more sweet talking. "I'm sure you've been expecting everyone who passed you by for the last mile," She said with a sigh, preparing herself for the sales pitch, "At what point of me telling my "story" does it suddenly cost me something to sit in your chair?" Robin crossed her arms, trying to put on a confident face for what she figured was a conman...or would it be conwoman? She wasn't sure and the water filled nature of her shoes was slowly starting to break the facade. Having come from a family with a line of unsuccesful restaurants that spent most of their open ours hanging on finacially by the frayed fabric of their lucky underpants she was no stranger to the sales pitch, daemon damned she had pratically invented the thing. Finally giving into the glare of the elderly hag and the impending fungus growth in her shoes, she plopped down into the chair, a sligt pout on her face, as she waited for some answers.
