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.”
Jareed dug at the flesh beneath his nails, getting out dirt with his legs bending down over onto the cushion provided by the old hag. "Oh ya know , anotha peasant just tryin to make ends meet. Followin' pact of Ram that came north, decent money those horns and hoofs, and decent eaten." The young rude man spit out onto the ground to clear his throat, only stopping his fidgeting after a few moments. "Ya a fortune teller? Could use a good card readin." Scratching at his nose, the dirty hunter leans back.
"Whas to be said yeah yeah? Been hunting most my life now, but like festivals so here I am. Mah story? Ma gone in youth, damn cold got her, beyond my sibilings and da, didn't do much in youth. Gettin smart and learnin to read is wizardly stuff. Me? I just hunt pelts."
