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.”
He shifts, placing a hand on his knee, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his broad face.
"Simon... yes, Simon sent word." He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. "I received his letter in my village. Said there was a better life here, that I should join him. But..." He sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair. "I had my doubts, but I trusted him. Always did, even when things went dark." His voice grows soft, almost uncertain. He glances back at the entrance of the tent, as if expecting something—someone—to emerge from the swampy haze outside. He inhales deeply, glancing back at the hag. "I'm here now, but there's something off about this place." He exhales slowly, his ice-blue eyes locked on her.
