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?))
She steps into the tent, her boots squelching on the damp floor as her sharp eyes take in the dim, flickering light of the candles. The air smells like mildew and decay, but she doesn't seem bothered by it.
“Charming,” she mutters, sitting down on the cushion with a casual, almost lazy grace. “This your idea of a warm welcome?”
She straightens, her gaze turning cold. “I didn’t come here for pleasantries. My parents were murdered when I was a child. Left in the street to rot. I grew up learning to survive, learning to fight. Killing came naturally after that.”
She leans forward, her voice steady but firm. “I’ve been chasing answers ever since. This town… it’s part of that. I can feel it.”
Her eyes lock with the hag’s, full of challenge. “You’ve been waiting for me. So, what do you know? Start talking.”
