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?))
Vahari steps carefully through the curtain of the tent, ducking through its entrance. His shoulders are damp from the swamp’s mist, and his boots trail faint mud across the tent’s floor. He pauses, blinking at the floating candles before his gaze settles on the hag’s weathered face. Her voice slows his breath. With a pause, he lowers himself to the cushion she offers, sitting knees first.
“…My name is Vahari,” he murmurs, brushing his hair from his eyes. His voice is soft, barely audible. “I come from the trees. A small grove.” He shifts his gaze away from her after a moment. “You know that?”
He tugs a satchel closer to his side and unclasps its top, revealing small bundles of dried herbs, a tightly-sealed jar of resin, and what appears to be a cracked, bark-carved pendant. He pauses, running a thumb across its surface. “I had a brother. Older brother. He went east one day. I followed when I could. Hope to find him.”
His gaze lifts again, tilting his head as he speaks. “I heard… from others, people I passed.. this place whispers. Strange dreams.” He gestures to the corners of the tent, where shadows flicker past the floating flames. “I see things, as I walk. On my journey. Not bad things. Well, sometimes bad things. Sometimes good things. Most times, just… things. People, groups, conflicts and happenings. Things.” He shrugs one shoulder awkwardly and offers a small sheepish smile.
He places the pendant between them on the rug. “I think I’m close. To him.” A breath. “Or to something.” Then, softer: “You waited. For me. So maybe… you know more?” He waits, letting the question hang as the candles waver slightly above.
