AwfullyHelpful

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?)) “My story interests m-m-me far less than that of others” Melvin speaks with a reedy, eccentric and stuttered cadence. “Tales of noble families and tyrants to innkeepers and shepherds is the trade I ply. Songs and Sonnets.” He reaches to the dark side of his hat and removes a rather ostentatious pipe which was disguised as a feather and begins packing it. “Aspirational tales of our b-b-betters and cautionary ones of our l-lessers” he strikes a match off the side of his hat, it’s flickering light accentuates the depth of the wrinkles on his old face as the corners of his mouth curl into a wry smile. “These old bones have carried me here from the Isle of Judi, seeking a woman by the name of Fitzwilliam.” “I am her old tutor, you see. Lessons in p-p-p-p-public speaking, statecraft and contemporary dance ….. I jest, poetry” Melvin lets out a rasping wheeze of a laugh. “I have come to continue her education! Any help you could provide in locating her would be m-much appreciated.” He reaches into his coin purse and produces two mina and offers them to the hag. As she reaches, he moves to grab her wrist and leans in close and murmurs sinisterly to her in a conspiratorial tone as all the joviality leaves his voice. “Secrets are just stories meant for a privileged few. This makes them worth their weight in gold to someone like me. Big ones, small ones - no matter. You would be surprised how useful a lowly stable boy can be when you arm yourself with the right secret. I love learning about new places and people and this seems like a wonderful opportunity to expand my own education.” He stands, “ How about a song?” his eyes widen and colour returns to his voice. He begins clicking chaotically. He knocks his pipe against the table - each strike releasing a smoke ring in front of his face, obscuring it briefly. He taps his foot which wears his long, belled, curl toed shoe. His other foot wears a dark black boot which remains deathly still. Clurghblughrhguhg he coughed. “I heard this one on the way here and I feel it’s relevant: He travelled the high road and needed something to eat He was stopped by a weird sister who offered a seat. The old man was famished he’d had neary a bite. He entered the tent to shield from the night. So they shared and shared and shared and shared. Morsels of stories of their fears and their cares. But she did not know that his tales weren’t free. After his stories he said “you now owe me A tale for a tale and an ode for an ode. Time to share things that have never been told” So they shared and shared and shared and shared. Morsels of stories of their fears and their cares. She wracked her head for a gem to present “One who takes but won’t give is one I resent” We now take a pause to hear your fine quote” … (He gestures expectantly) *Silence* *Silence* “What a fine anecdote!” So they shared and shared and shared and shared. Morsels of stories of their fears and their cares. “The price for no info, is not that hefty a fee. All it will cost you is mina coin, three” He reaches with gnarled fingers toward the hag’s hand which hold the coins he previously gave her. (How does she respond?)