AgentVewDo

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?)) Valador lowered himself onto the cushion, his gaze sweeping over the flickering candles casting dancing shadows around them. "My name is Valador," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with caution, "a blacksmith by trade. I aim to bring my craft to this desolate land, to forge anew amidst the shadows and mists." Leaning in slightly, the urgency of his mission pulsed beneath his calm demeanor. "But my arrival coincides with pressing matters that demand my attention. Troubles have stirred in the night, and I am bound to address them swiftly." He watched her closely, gauging her reaction, choosing his words with precision. "In these times of unrest, one must be versatile in their pursuits, adept at navigating the veiled paths of existence. A blacksmith by day, perhaps, but by night, a different mantle may be donned." Valador let the implications linger, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air. His gaze met hers, a silent understanding passing between them. In this town of shadows and secrets, he knew she saw more than met the eye.