Matzavas

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?)) Example: (delete this) His lips remained sealed as he made a quick examination of the surroundings of the tent, observing the strange decoration of pots and tools. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, uncertain of what to expect. His face then turned to the old woman as he took a deep look into her face. "What's it to you?" he asked sharply, deepening his gaze to the crone. Her mouth smirked as she returned the stare. "I have food and water to offer to you, but to give you that I need to be entertained," the old woman uttered, clearly unfazed by his attempts to intimidate her. His growling stomach and parched tongue commanded him to listen to the grandma. He searched around the claustrophobic tent and found a semi-comfortable pillow to rest his legs. As he sat down, he took one final glance at the wrinkled old woman before breaking eye contact and opening his mouth. "I was born far away from here, into the urban hell of Petra, a mixed child from a highlandish father and a heartlandish mother. My childhood was fairly easy for the most part; my mother taught me to read and write while my father helped with my physical training. Overall, my early life was without any turbulence until.." He halted his speech, his brows narrowing as a spark ignited in his eyes. He remade eye contact with the old woman."We went out to the countryside, to escape the bustle of the city. It was there. I witnessed my parents slaughtered in front of me by a band of rogue elves," he delivered his words succinctly, refusing to elaborate anymore despite the hagglady's advances."After that encounter, I fled Petra to forge my own path," he grinned in discomfort. "But I've yet to decide if I want to leave my city forever." Once again, he cut his speech short, his attention drawn to the old spinster as she retrieved out of her woolen bag a piece of bread and a bottle of water and looked directly at him. "Oh, don't look so mesmerized, it's not for you," his smile quickly faded. The old woman burst out laughing. "I'm joking of course." She handed him the food. "Well-made food for a story well said."