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?)) "Hello, it's taken me quite some time to get here, to be honest, I'm surprised you were still expecting me," I say while squatting down to sit on a nearby pillow. I pull out a tattered sheet from my knapsack and straighten it out on the table between us before handing it over to her.
*Tavern Keeper Wanted* written in bold across the top, the rest of the poster was smeared from constant rain and wear.
"Is the position still open?" I ask hopefully. With how long it's been since I picked up the flyer it was extremely likely that someone else had stumbled upon the opportunity and grabbed it.
"Oh dearie, of course it's still open." She smiles and gestures to the tent flap through which I entered and swings her arm wide, "With the current state of our town, Hell would've had to freeze over before anybody would want the position, let alone even step within shouting distance of us."
I let out a small chuckle, "Well thank goodness, because I need a job. Seems like everywhere you go, every job's been filled. At least the ones where you can see the people and go on the adventures without taking a step outside what I know."
