Ninjay

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?)) Ignoring the invitation to sit, Jay looks toward the old woman with a mix of annoyance and apathy. "If you've seen my coming, shouldn't you also be capable of seeing what's brought me here?" The woman smiles back towards him. "Humor me, won't you?" Stifling a groan, Jay sits down and speaks while searching through his pack. "Well then, what do you want to hear about? The town I grew up in? How more and more people left it over time and it turned into a ghost town? The fighting I did for nation, ruler, and fellow countrymen, the victories and achievements - that meant nothing when the rest of the nation was led astray and ousted us? The years of traveling, searching for a new place we could all settle and call home? The reality that everyone else settled, and now only I remain a drifter?" Finding what he was looking for, he pulls out an apple, takes a bite, and continues. "At this point, none of that even matters to me. So why on earth would any of it matter to you?" "Well, that's all well and good, but what brings you here?" "More drifting, same as always. I try to at least stay near civilization. Although..." He looks towards the exterior and the state of disrepair the town is in. "Calling this civilization might be a bit of a stretch. I think I'll be going." On his way out of the town, Jay mutters quietly to himself. "Damn mystics..."