Loona

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?)) Loona drops onto the cushion with a relaxed thud, pulling a battered canteen from their belt and taking a swig. The swamp’s stink doesn’t seem to bother them. "I’ve been training for most—if not all—of my life to be a soldier, a spy, for anyone willing to give me a good enough pay. Most people don’t, and they end up facing the consequences. But those who do… they get what they want out of me—whether it be a skull on a stick planted outside of their home, or information about someone’s guts they hate. I’ll do anything for money." She stretches one leg out, cracking her neck as she scans the strange, candlelit tent. "Was passing through. Didn’t even know this town was here ‘til I saw the smoke. Figured I'd stop in, see if there was a job that needed doing—or someone that needed disappearing." Loona takes another swig and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She shrugs, casual as ever. "Didn’t expect to find a tent full of floating candles and someone who already knows my name, but... here we are." Her fingers tap the side of her canteen. She doesn’t reach for a weapon—but she doesn’t relax either. Her gaze lingers, steady, curious, and just a bit suspicious. "So. You gonna offer me something, or is this just a spooky tent for show?"