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?))
"Well'a HOWDEY!" the elderly man greets giddily with a wave of his straw hat, before taking a seat as instructed. One leg is laid upon the other as he leans forward toward his hostess. "Well A'M jus'a simple fisherm'in's all! I'm lookin' 'round an' this seems like a fine lil' waterin' hole fer s'm FLAA FISHIN'!" he blurts aloud, itching upon the lengthy white tuft of his chin. "A used ta' be a fine sailor, slew a few KRAKENS in mah day!.. Buuut eventualleh I did what ever'eh otha' sap does.. Ah' gat OLD! An' now I'm just doin' whatever A can tah relive th' glory days!". Soon leaning back into his chair, the retired sea slayer would spread his legs open as he began to fully settle into his chair. "Aaaahh.. A've got quite a few stories tah' tell, but A' reserve those fer payin' customers. If there be somethin' folk pay for more than some measly fishies, et's either information an' entertainment! An A' got both in bulk!" he elaborates, outstretching a hand. Upon his palm and fingers were several scars akin to bites from a number of leeches and sea creatures, and upon his arm was a large tattoo of suckled tendrils - akin to a great squid. "So... 'Ow much are ye' willin' ta fork ovah?" he entices, grinning with a mouth of crooked teeth.
