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?))
Name’s Torik. I ain’t no knight or mage, just a man with strong hands and a love for good soil. Been travelin’ a long while — town to town, workin’ the land, helpin’ where I can. Folks got empty bellies, I feed ’em. Not much more to it. All I’m really lookin’ for is a place to call mine. Somewhere quiet. With a field I can tend, some animals maybe. A real home. If you know a path that leads to that... well, maybe that’s why I’m here.
