seriyouse

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?)) "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… You duck into the tent, shaking the damp from your shoulders, and let out a short breath. The hag’s words make your jaw tighten, but you drop onto the cushion all the same, brushing mud from your sleeve. “My story’s nothing worth dressing up,” you say quickly, tone clipped. “I came through the muck, same as anyone desperate enough to end up here. I’m not here to linger—I’m here to find answers, and if you’ve been expecting me, then allow me a bit of your company. Time’s short in a place like this.”

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.” "Oh, I just, uh…" stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until… …you exhale, shoulders lowering just slightly. “The roads led me here,” you mutter, voice low but firming with each word. “I left behind a city of gold for self progression..—only it was not only moss or water that rotting the treasure, but the minds of the people as well.” Your gaze drifts to the candles, their flames bending in the draft. “If you’ve truly been expecting me, then you know I have no home. Not anymore.” Your eyes meet hers again, this time with a flicker of defiance and grand sense of survival. “So tell me, wise lady.. but why is it that you were waiting for me?”