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?)) "Well..." hesitantly, she sits on the cushion. She eyes the figure before crossing her arms, letting out a hard swallow as the room grows silent.
She lowers her eyes, and a reluctant smile dawns her face. "It's not exactly an interesting one." her eyes wander in no particular direction.
"I was raised by my mother. She is--" she sutters, "--was a farmer. It was a simple life, before she passed on to the second sky." She now crossed her arms, the air thickened and a slim breeze swept through the candles, their lights slightly flickering at the disturbance. "We lived in the Heartlands."
"Since than I've been travelling to find work..I have recently come to reside in Haense." She stood up, and swept her dress skirt, the floorboards creaked in reaction to her sudden movement, and her face --once illuminated in candlelight-- was now shielded in darkness. "That is all." her gaze lowered back down to the figure. "If you must call it one, a story, then it is a story that lacks any interest."
