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?))
He stood in front of the elderly woman, pausing to take in his new surroundings before obliging to her request. He dragged the cushion into the middle of the tent, and felt the mushy soil soak into the fabric as he sat down. “Aye, elder, I would be honored to sit and tell you my story, yet I am unaware of who ye may be, and what knowledge you hold of me.”
Receiving no answer from the hag, he let out a prolonged sigh through his nose, scrunching it as he breathed back in. “May you be a prophet, a messenger, or a delusional old woman, I do not know. Alas, there is no reasoning for me to withhold my history, and it has been a long journey with little talk.” He fidgeted around on his pillow, readjusting his position, and squinted his eyes. “My very creation comes from the farthest northern peaks ye may dream of, the sky-scrapin’ beasts of cold. From there, I was largely raised in the preceding boreal forest, in a small village much similar to-” His guttural cough cut him off, racketing his chest with such force he was made to stand back up. “Aye, maybe-” He hacked into his elbow. “-maybe not too similar to this place. I give you my dearest apologies, but the smell- Aye, my breathing ain’t yet adapted to such an environment.” He pulled his bearskin hood down towards his mouth and nose, covering them as well as he could. “Sorry, aye, for I must be on my way- this smog is much too thick to allow me a sufficient inhale of air.” He picked up the cushion, returning it to its original place, and began to back away towards the tent’s entrance. “While this encounter may have been short-lived, it was great to, ah, meet you? Do not worry of my departure, for I plan to visit you as soon as I become acclimatized to this terrain.” His boots were becoming engulfed by the mulchy earth, and he attempted to pull one out using a tad too much force, causing him to lose balance and crash into the leading wall of the tent. “Aye! Ah! Zounds! By this bearshite, muck-literred, slime-riddled town! Made for no being of soul, I tell ya! Aye!” He exclaimed these words in a rascous tone, quieting down as he righted himself back onto his feet. “Ah… it seems I should be.. Eh.. on my way out..” He took in the old hags expression, and swiftly turned around onto the outdoor cobblestone pathway. He left in a light jog, getting at least twenty feet away from the encampment before slowing pace. Sets of standing torches illuminated the ends of the village, and he continued along the trail until his eyesight was solely dependent upon the yellow-tinted moon, leaving him stumbling along towards new adventures.
