Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
"So, the whispers were true," he said, his voice low and calm, carrying a weight that quieted the air. Lowering himself onto the offered seat. "You claim to have been expecting me." He paused. "Yet... I doubt you know why I’ve come."
"I was cast from the highlands years ago," he began, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of bitterness. "My father, a merchant blinded by ambition, made the wrong alliances. My mother tried to shield me, but exile was the price of his betrayal." He leaned forward slightly, his tone darkening. "Since then, I’ve roamed the shadows, learning the old ways, surviving where others wouldn’t. My only ambition now is to reclaim what was stolen from me. If you truly know me," he said, his voice sharp as a blade, "then you know how far I’ll go to see it done."
