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 hesitates before sitting, the damp air clinging to his clothes as if the swamp itself wants to listen. The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across his face, revealing eyes that have seen more than they care to remember. He tells her of roads traveled under broken moons, of towns left behind in silence, and of names he no longer answers to. He speaks carefully, as though each word costs something, as though the wrong one might summon old ghosts from the mire. This place, he admits, was not chosen by chance—rumors and half-whispered prophecies led him here. And now that he’s arrived, he can feel it in his bones: the swamp knows him… and it is not done with him yet.
