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:
He brushed the mud off his boots, set his axe down beside him with a heavy thud, and lowered himself onto the cushion, his broad shoulders stiff from days of chopping.
“Story, eh? Not much to tell,” he muttered. “Spent most o’ my life in the woods—cutting trees, shaping timber, building homes for folk who never once set foot near the roots that gave ‘em shelter.
But the forest’s been changin’. Trees groanin’ at night, sap black as tar, and beasts he didn’t rightly know lurkin’ where he once swung his blade without fear. Somethin’ foul had seeped into the land… maybe the same foulness that dripped through this town.”
"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…
