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?))
Zelroth narrows his amber eyes, his hand resting instinctively near his belt as he studies the hag. He remains standing for a moment before slowly sinking onto the cushion. "I doubt many would expect a wanderer like me," he says in a low, quiet tone. "My story is one of shadows and long roads. I have traveled far from the caverns of my kin, seeking a place where my blades and my silence are worth more than my name.
