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?))
My character narrows her eyes, brushing damp strands of blonde hair from her face as she steps cautiously toward the cushion. The flickering candlelight dances across her sharp features.
She doesn’t sit just yet. “You were expecting me?” she echoes, her voice smooth but guarded. “That’s either fortune... or a trap.”
After a beat, she lowers herself onto the cushion, still watching the hag closely. Her long cloak settles around her like a shadow.
“I come from the north, where the forests speak and the stars do not lie. I was sent... or maybe drawn. Either way, your little swamp whispered my name long before your mouth did. So here I am.”
She leans in slightly.
“Now tell me, crone—what is it you think you know about me?”
