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?))
The hag's eyes seem to peer into Theo's very soul. Yet, entirely undeterred, he saunters into the tent with his usual swagger, flashing a mischievous grin at the old hag and returning her gaze with his piercing green eyes. "Ah, expecting me, were you?" Theo quips. "Must be my infamous charm reaching even the darkest corners of this swamp." He avoids the low-hanging candles and plops down on the cushion, making himself comfortable with a theatrical flourish.
"Well, here's the scoop, granny. I've roamed far and wide, from the mountainous stretches of Urguan to the lowly riverlands of Norland, chasing forbidden knowledge and, admittedly, fleeing a few angry husbands along the way." Theo chuckles to himself. "But this murky, candle-lit corner of the world? Well, when I heard the tales of a town as damp as my last love affair, I simply couldn't resist, could I?" Another self-satisfied chuckle. "Apart from that though, I've been made aware of this place's certain... appeal. Especially where the darker arts are concerned."
Theo leans back, resting his arms behind his head. "As for my story, let's just say I'm a man of high aspirations, and... particular interests. Ones that may align with the unique atmosphere of your abode." His smirk, sharp yet calculating, holds the hag's stare. "Now, the real intrigue lies in what you, dear granny, might offer me from your long and wizened years spent studying the forbidden arts. And of course, a gentleman like me knows that everything comes at a cost." His eyes narrow onto the hag, his demeanour shifting instantly from playful to predatory. "So state your price, witch. Before I grow tired and decide no longer to stomach your stench."
