BushOfBlue

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?)) Example: You glance around nervously, scanning the room for any hints of traps or hidden vagrants, but appear to see only the hag. "Name'th Pix" Pix says, lisping as a result of the fangs He'd inherited from his mother's side. He shambles in, seeming unusually comfortable for such a strange place, worries melting away as he walks in and clambers onto the offered cushion. "Well, righth now I'm here on the hunth for buthineth." He places his hands on his hips proudly and tilts his head off to the side. "Plannin on bein a tile layer like me dad, betht tile layer in Kal'Varoth he ith." Pix grin at the hag and place his hands in his lap. "That'th how he met me mum. Shthee went lookin for the betht there ith for her tribes construction needs. One thing leaden to another, here I am today." I scowl. "I love em both, but the doting was gettin to be enough." He gestures his hands around in indignation. "Me mum seeth danger around every corner, and me dad alwayth feelth the need to protect me from the other dwarvths." leaning a little forward he spread my arms wide. "Tho now I'm off, I'll thee the world and become an even better tile layer than me old man..." He trails off, overlooking the floor sheepishly and shrugging his shoulders in the direction of the hag. "Speaking of..." He says, pulling out a small hammer and chisel from his leather toolbelt. "Tell me mith, have you considered maybe getting a renovation..?"