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?))
"My apologies," she let out almost instinctively, her eyes widening in fear. "I am but a traveler--my name and origin is of little consequence, madame. I bid you a good day," before the crone could even muster up a reply, she hiked up her dress and turned on my heel, only to be met with the entrance to the tent sealed shut.
"Oh..." she let out, defeated. The hag then gestured to the cushion once more. The young woman reasoned her options were limited, and progressed forward, plopping herself down near her. "My name is Melisende," she began impassively, "I've no surname nor any great story to impart you with. I am from Karosgrad, as is my mother."
"And your father?" the hag jumped at the opportunity to belittle me.
"Absent. If he were not, I would've mentioned him--I have no idea who he is, truth be told." Melisandre admitted, cocking her head backward, in attempt to obscure any emotion that may appear on her face. She outright refused to let that hag see any weakness from her.
"Very well then, I thought you noble," sighed the crone, evidently disappointed, "Your looks could have caught a hefty ransom, though looks can be deceiving. Be gone, worthless she-bastard."
"And gone I am. Gladly so." she jumped up, the seams of the entryway rippling and coming apart. Melisandre wasted no time in making her escape, running halfway to Nau Valdev.
