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?))
I look around the tent curiously, I lift my head to reveal a girl aged with grief and sorrow. There would be a recent stab wound about 3 inches vertical on my left cheek and one right below my chin on my neck. I have dark green eyes laced with trauma. My eyes seemed to show a story deeper then anyone could ever know. My hair was as black as a sky with no stars. My skin almost olive in tone.
I finally looked towards the hag with hesitation. I watch tentatively as she gestures towards the cushion but I don't move. I clear my throat to speak but it doesn't help much.
"My story?" I asked almost defensively. My voice hoarse and barely audible.
"I've just had to bury my family after watching them be slain in front of me." Tears prick my eyes recounting in my head the last moments with my family but I refuse to let them fall. I continue to speak to the hag, "I just need a place to rest for the night. I've been walking for days." I watch closely at the hag before I stumble forward a little, catching myself. My eyes and mind start to betray me with exhaustion as the world around my starts to blur and darken. The last thing I hear before I crumble is a large thud, presumably my body hitting the cold damp ground.
