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?))
I lower my hood, revealing a face shrouded in shadows. My piercing gaze meets the old hag's as I take a seat on the offered cushion. The flickering candlelight dances on the edges of my features, creating an eerie ambiance.
"Expecting me, you say?" I respond in a low, gravelly voice. "I am but a traveler, seeking refuge in the shadows of this forgotten town. My past is a tapestry woven with threads of mystery and darkness. I've walked through the corridors of life, leaving behind whispers of fear and tales of the unknown."
I lean forward, the shadows deepening as I lock eyes with the hag. "They call me Scythe Hollow, a name whispered in hushed tones among those who dare speak of me. I move like a specter through the night, leaving no trace but the chilling aura of my presence."
A sly smile plays on my lips as I continue, "The towns I've visited bear witness to my enigmatic deeds, and the legends speak of a silent killer with a thirst for the unknown. But I come seeking something more in this dim, swampy abode – a secret, a revelation, or perhaps a challenge worthy of my elusive skills."
I pause, allowing the weight of my words to settle in the tent like the heavy mist outside. "Now, old hag, what secrets do you hold in the folds of this forgotten town? What threads of destiny have led me to your doorstep?"
