etherdeef

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?)) Jacob looks around half heartedly, a question on his lips but mind focused on niceties and hospitality, "Where to begin," He says, moving to take a seat upon the cushion. Holding in a sigh and moving to stroke his moustache, glistening in wetness from the extreme humidity. "Ill spare you the most of it, but I was travelling with company, Anthony he was called, an old wagon driver I had payed to wheel me down south from Reinmar." Jacobs eyes narrow in spite as he recalls the next few moments, "Ruffians, an extortion racket that the old man seemed familiar with, he payed them a few silver and that shouldve been the end of it, but if you'd seen that grin they shared..." A few silent moments pass, as Jacob leans back and attempts to distract himself from the memory as he searches his pockets. Pulling out a pipe and filling it with what could only be pipeweed, he popped an eyebrow toward the old hag, "D'you mind?" He asked, to which the hag shook her head. Drawing deep and blowing out hard, Jacob racked his brain to pick up where he left off, "They grabbed the old man and I did the only thing a sane man could do, I ran out the back of the wagon. It was dishonourable sure, but I am no warrior, the old man was no real friend of mine." Jacob looked upon the hags narrowed gaze, condensation pouring down his forehead as his cheeks slowly reddened. "There was nothing I could do!" He shouted into the quiet. "It was his fault for dealing with the bandits, he should've known. In fact, he was putting my life in danger!" Jacob continued, his pipe dropped and forgotten on the floor of the tent. He buried his hands into his face, a sense of failure and shame radiating off of him, until eventually he stood, a face of calm solemn composure, he looked toward the old hag but she was gone, with not a trace left behind.