CupOfWarmCoffee

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?)) Example: Faelan raised his hand and gently touch the burn mark on his right eye, the scarred skin still tender under his fingers. His gaze hardens as he slowly point to the scar, then to his chest, and finally gesture out to the world around him the town, the swamp before making a sweeping motion, as if to say everything is gone. He clench his fist again. Revenge. The word is unspoken, but the intensity of his anger fills the space between them. (I tried my best 😶)

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?)) Example: Faelan raised his hand and gently touch the burn mark on his right eye, the scarred skin still tender under his fingers. His gaze hardens as he slowly point to the scar, then to his chest, and finally gesture out to the world around him the town, the swamp before making a sweeping motion, as if to say everything is gone. He clench his fist again. Revenge. The word is unspoken, but the intensity of his anger fills the space between them. (I tried my best 😶)