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?))
Jasper Clay shifts uncomfortably on his feet, glancing around the dim tent with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The stench clings to him, but he doesn't seem to mind. His eyes finally settle on the old hag. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, sitting on the cushion she indicated.
"Well, it's a long story," he begins, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was born in a little village on the outskirts of the some woods. My parents, they were good folks. Simple, you know? We weren't rich, but we got by. My dad was a scribe, and my mom, she was a weaver." Jasper's eyes soften as he recalls his childhood. "My dad always used to say that my gullibility will hurt me one day, but my mom told me to keep it, insisting that I would miss my innocence if I ever lost it."
"But then, things changed. The village was attacked by a band of raiders. They came in the dead of night, and before we knew it, everything was burning. My parents, they tried to protect me, but..." He trails off, his voice breaking slightly. "They didn't make it." Jasper's gaze drops to the floor, and he takes a moment to compose himself.
"After that, I had nowhere to go. I wandered for a while, doing odd jobs, trying to survive. I met all kinds of people, from all over." Jasper pauses, "...Not all of them I got along with. Its the same every time: I give them my trust and they abuse it. I guess my dad was right. When it comes to that, and I realize I've been played...well...I learned to fend for myself, to steal and hurt them when I had to." He looks up at the hag, a hint of frustration in his eyes.
"I want to believe there's good in everyone, I really do. Even if they don't always show it." Jasper pauses, a small, rueful smile playing on his lips.
"I guess that's why I'm traveling alone. I'm looking for a purpose, a place where I can make a difference. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find people who understand me, who won't take advantage of my kindness. But until then, I'll keep moving forward."
He falls silent, his story told, and waits for the old hag's response.
