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?))
Ducking the candles as I enter, I take a seat, pondering to myself whether it would be take a seat or take a cushion- the thought fades as I begin to speak "Well, ain't going to win me no Pulitzer lady, but I'll tell you it all the same, truth is- I've been roving these here lands for some time now, searching for a place fertile, some place I can sow my seed" I suddenly pause as I notice the hag seemed to recoil at my wording- her face scrunched exposing the lines imbedded in her leathery skin, her voice tremors slightly as she sheepishly quotes me "sow your seed?" hastily I reply "Yes, you old bag, sow my seed! thousands will feed on my seed I will sustain not only myself but others as well" the senior gasps exclaiming "Good Christ, what the **** are we talking about here?!" I furrow my brow befuddled by the question as it was obvious, I shoot a look at the ground then forward toward the old one, my face softens and I say simply "I wish to plant barley and wheat! carrots and onions - possibly raise a beast or two - it is my dream to be a farmer it may be a humble one but it is all my own." suddenly the atmosphere shifts, no longer crushing but now light and breezy the old lady sits down fully returning from the half crouch half sit stance she'd assumed after the first sentence I uttered, she seems to relax completely now smiling at me, I shoot a smile back as relief washes over the pair of us, I stagger to my feet as my left leg has gone numb due to sitting cross legged, and say "Thank you for you time, hag, it was almost like it was fated we'd meet, scripted even- but best be on my way, there's land to be tilled holes to be filled" the hag nods and I take my leave- dragging my left leg along with me as I limp out of tent back into the dense mist of the murky night.
(Backstory is a young salt of the earth fella' who wants to own some land and farm it! possibly raise a beast and make a friend or two along the way.)
