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?))
Nerwe stepped inside, her nose wrinkling slightly at the smell, but her lips soon curled into a mischievous smirk. She made no effort to hide the amusement in her glowing eyes as they swept over the tent's dim decor.
“Expecting me? My, my, and here I thought I was being subtle.” She chuckled softly, her voice like velvet with just the right touch of mockery.
She circled the tent slowly, fingers trailing lazily along the edges of hanging fabrics and old trinkets, clearly unbothered by the gloom. Finally, she flicked a bit of dust off the cushion with two fingers before sitting, legs crossed, posture relaxed but undeniably regal.
“Tell you my story? Darling, I usually charge for the privilege.” She leaned forward, a teasing glint in her eyes. “But since you asked so sweetly, perhaps I’ll humor you. Just be warned—once you know it, you may never sleep soundly again.”
She let the threat hang in the air, punctuating it with a playful wink. Whatever story she was about to make up, however, would not contain a single truth. Her truth will only ever be shared with her dreams and her diary.
For you see: once upon a time, deep in the Underdark, there was a noble house that thought itself untouchable. And then—whoops!—it wasn’t. Assassins, poison, the usual drama. The house fell overnight.
But Nerwe? She didn’t fall. She sidestepped the chaos, slipped through the shadows, and left with more jewels than regrets. Now, she roams the surface, collecting favors, spinning tales, and causing just the right amount of trouble.
She’s been a duchess, a thief, a spy, and once, accidentally, a priestess (long story). These days, she follows one simple rule: If you can’t win the game, change the rules.
And if someone claims they’ve “been expecting her”? Well. That just makes things fun.
