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?))
Hrodwyn cautiously eyes the dark surroundings of the tent she enters. She then suspects with her eyes the hag. With a sneer, she aggressively states, "Why are you so nosy, hag? My business is mine own." She then takes a moment in the awkward silence to sigh, "But I suppose..." She thinks for a moment, "I am here, I might as well share my story to someone who is listening." She crosses her arms across her chest and thinks back.
"I am a runaway. I was supposed to be married off to another family, arranged by my parents." Her eyes show pain in them as she remembers, the pain burns into anger. "They didn't want to listen to what I had to say, what I was feeling, they pushed me away, so I gave them what they wanted. I have no need for parents."
"I had to fend for myself. I joined roving warbands and fought alongside them for my bread, water, and fire." – "With no care of the eyes upon me, I did what I wanted. I lived freely. I lived by my choice alone."
"And I shall die by my choice alone."
