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?))
Kraka narrows his eyes, taking a deep breath of the thick, damp air. The scent of mildew and something faintly metallic lingers in the dim candlelight. His boots sink slightly into the soft earth beneath the tent, and he shifts his weight, arms crossing over his chest.
He studies the old hag, wary of her knowing gaze. He’s met seers and tricksters before—some with true sight, others simply keen manipulators. Either way, she has the look of one who deals in secrets, and Kraka has never been one to lay his story bare without reason.
Still, something about her makes the back of his neck prickle.
Slowly, he steps forward and lowers himself onto the cushion with a grunt. His axe rests at his side, within reach, as he leans forward on his elbows.
“If you’ve been expecting me, then you already know part of my tale,” he says, his deep voice like stone grinding against stone. His fingers drum against his knee before he exhales sharply. “But I’ll humor you, hag.”
He adjusts his belt, glancing at the flickering candles before fixing his gaze back on her.
“My name is Kraka, of the Deepdelver clan. Born under the mountain, raised in the dark, but cursed with restless feet.” His lips curl slightly, the closest thing to a smile. “I was raised to mine, to fight, to stand in defense of my kin. But my path led me beyond the halls of my ancestors.”
His expression hardens, shadows flickering across his face.
“There is something beneath the mountain. Something old, waiting, watching. I saw it. I felt its hunger before we sealed the tunnels, but it is not gone.” His grip tightens on his knee. “I left to seek knowledge—to uncover what lurks in the deep before it rises again.”
He leans back slightly, arching a brow.
“So tell me, hag—why were you expecting me?”
