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?))
"Well, I've been on many journeys and this one is not unlike the others." Baulder says while gripping the hilt of his sword. "I've also had countless run-ins with hags trying to pull my heart from my chest, so I'd suggest not trying anything you'd soon regret, but you know what, I'll humor you. I was born a while ago, don't know how long, don't need to know. I lived my younger days on a farm, helped run it on account of the fact back then I was as strong as an ox. I am of course, not anymore. Age hit me hard, but it blessed me with wisdom. and I know not to trust an unfamiliar hag in an unfamiliar village. One day, when I was far stronger, a hag almost tempted my heart for the ability to take a fatal hit, I'm glad I didn't take her deal. If I did, I would've never died in peace. After that journey I retired for a couple of years, but the wilds always tempted me, so a couple months ago I decided to burn down my home and start adventuring again. I may retire again someday, but that day is not today."
