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?))
Marigold eyes the dingy interior of the tent with some suspicion--a suspicion that's not greatly helped by the hag's cryptic greeting. Nonetheless, she's soaked, tired, and far from enthusiastic about the prospect of spending any more time stomping about in the swamp, so she decides to take her chances with the mysterious stranger. Plopping down onto a moth-eaten cushion across from the hag, she runs her fingers through her damp hair and smiles.
"My story? 'Fraid it's not all that intrestin', but if yer askin', I s'pose I can spin ya a bit of a yarn." She rubs her chin for several long moments before chuckling bashfully. "Sorry, sorry, 's just that no one's bothered askin' for my life story 'fore now! I'm from Amberdell. It's up, uh--"
She gestures vaguely in the direction of the tent flap.
"--some distance that-a-way. Cozy lil' place, I'll tell ya. Ma 'n pa were farmers, 'n their parents before them, 'n so on 'n so forth. It's good work, tendin' to the land. Course, when yer fixed to one place like that, y'don't get too many opportunities to travel. Never thought I'd end up some place like this!"
She laughs, the sound barely audible over the drumbeat of rainfall against the tent.
"My comin' here was somethin' of 'n accident, y'see... a chicken wriggled its way out of one of th' coops and took right off--evil, wretched lil things, those chickens--'n of course I took right off after it, yellin' 'n runnin' 'n wavin' my arms this way 'n that, but he just wouldn't listen! 'Fore I knew it I looked up 'n the sky was darkenin', then the clouds rolled in 'n it started dumpin' buckets full-a rain all down on me, so I made for the nearest bit o' shelter I could find, 'n it just so happened to be yer...uh, quaint lil' abode here."
Quiet falls over the tent, broken only by the distant rumbling of thunder. Marigold allows herself an awkward cough after some time.
"Ye... haven't happened t' see that chicken 'round, havya?"
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