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?))
Example:
I exhale, slow and heavy, like letting go of an old secret.
"My story?" I say, brushing the rain from my cloak before settling onto the cushion. The candlelight flickers in my tired eyes. "It began with fire. Fire and screams. I was a boy when the world I knew was turned to ash. They said the Mancers died out centuries ago—burned, broken, buried. But my blood says otherwise."
I look her straight in her clouded eyes.
"I am Thalariel, last of the Mancer Guard. The saber they forged still answers to me, even if no one else will. I came here because the dead speak louder than the living in these parts, and I need answers only they can give. You say you were expecting me—then you must know who hunts me… and why the blade hums every time I draw near this cursed place."
I lean forward slightly.
"Now it’s your turn. You’ve waited long enough. Tell me what you know."
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
