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 examined the tent, there is a set of cushions in a row close to the entrance with a raggedy old woman, shrouded in black burnt drapes over her head sat opposite from them across a set of candles and cookery. "Well, that's not ominous to say at all" He'd take a knee on the cushion, resting backward onto my rear ankle as he took a swig from his nearly empty canteen "Well it started back in Courtland, the city life wasn't treating me so well, my family always expected me to work and settle down, they were always so hard working running their own blacksmiths shop, but that isn't the life I wanted for myself, I hope one day I can return but for now I set out for some place else, turns out the grass isn't always greener on the other side" He'd grimace at the thought, giving up his comfortable life seemed like something he'd come to regret more and more as he saw what the world had to offer. "Turns out the journey here wasn't too kind, I'm glad I served as a soldier for the local town, that's the only reason I managed to survive and now I need to reap what I sew, I've always been quite the independent type, maybe I'll make something of myself in this... place" He'd look backwards outside the opening in the tent, seeing dim lights, shadowy figures and faint lanterns, it would take a lot more than what he's come across so far to break his humanitarian spirit, it's time for him to start his newest journey.
