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?))
Grigori lowers his head as he walks through the low entrance of the tent. His dull blue pupils dilate as they adjust to the dim half-light of the tent interior. As soon as his eyes spot the old woman sitting directly in front of him he hears her unsteady voice call to him. Without a moment of hesitation he takes her up on her offer: walking over to the indicated cushion and sitting upon it. He exhales a tired sigh as he may finally relax his tired, sore legs for a moment. A second later he inhales then utters a reply to her: "I wish not to waste your time with such a boring story as mine, sister." he says, his tired voice little more than a whisper. "I've followed the northern road for weeks-" he says, pointing vaguely at the road which intersects this village. "My long path has lead me to seek Vjardengrad. I apologize but I may not stay long. I must return to the road." he says. The man sighs as he slowly rises oncemore onto his feet. "Spread the flame, sister." he says as he departs.
