Marz

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?)) He narrows his eyes, hesitating for a moment before stepping further into the tent. His boots sink slightly into the dirt beneath him as he lowers himself onto the cushion, keeping an eye on her as he approaches carefully. “Do you know who I am?” he asks, in a measured tone, “If you can't even say my name, why should I tell you my story?” His fingers drum against his knee as he glances around the flickering tent. “Feels like a waste of breath, don’t you think?” He inhales sharply, smelling the musk as the scent clings to the back of his throat. He shakes his head, trying to think clearly. “Instead, how about you start?” He tilts his head, meeting the old hag’s gaze. “Where exactly am I? How did I get here? And..” He gestures vaguely at the air. “Why in God’s name does this place reek?”