entered the 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?))
As Zaluj entered the tent with a look a familiarity, his posture shifts from one of caution to reluctance. It reminds him of when he was a young boy and was left behind by his tribe while traveling, forced to adapt the ever changing environment surrounding him. When he returned home, it was a whole five weeks later till he arrived home. He left a boy, and arrived as an entirely different man. After what he saw, the people he met, things would never go back to the way they were for him before. No child should have to go through what he did.
"If you were expecting me, that makes things easier."
He gestures for her to take her seat first. He walks over to the cushion, and slowly drops to the floor in semi kneeling fashion. He finds it easier to rush an opponent if something he has at least one leg with it's foot flat on the ground. Makes it easier to stand up. Sort of like how a runner will position himself at the start of a race. He holsters his axe. and pulls out a dagger. He pulled it off a bandit the day before, the blade still carried the stench of it's previous master.
"While normally, I'd like to take my time, maybe ask for a cup of tea or offer one my self, I'm in a bit of a rush."
Zaluj leans forward and stabs the knife into a dingy, half-rotted table that sits between the hag and him.
"You know who I am, that means you know why I'm here. So I suggest you give me the information I seek before I am forced to stain this tent with an unsavory shade of red.
