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.”
There’s a slight tremor in their hands, not from fear, but from the rawness of the pain they carry. The grief is always there, always lurking, but the need for understanding, for justice—perhaps even revenge—has become stronger than anything else. “It was home. A quiet place where everyone knew each other's name, where the trees whispered in the wind and the rivers ran clear. But that peace didn’t last. It started slowly, almost imperceptibly—people falling ill, crops withering, a shadow that stretched across the town like a curse. We tried everything. Healers, prayers, even strangers who claimed to have knowledge of dark things. But nothing worked. In the end, it wasn’t just sickness that took us. No... something far older, something terrible, devoured the town. I was the only one left, the only one to escape. I don’t know how. I only know that when I turned back, the streets were empty. The houses were hollow shells. There was nothing... except the smell of ash. So I’ve walked since then, looking for answers, hoping—no, needing—to understand why. But, I don’t know what I seek anymore,” they admit, the words heavy on their tongue. "Maybe it’s answers... but not just any answers. I want to know what happened to them... to my town. Why? Why was it taken? And how can I stop this from happening again? If there’s a way to stop it... I’ll find it."
