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.”
I sit slowly on the cushion, the candlelight flickering over my face.
“I come from a forest far from here,” I say. “I was a scout—good at finding paths, good at surviving. My home began to fail. The trees sickened. Creatures changed into things they were never meant to be.”
I pause, jaw tight.
“I tried to follow the cause. I couldn’t stop it. I left before it finished me.”
I look up at the hag, steady and calm.
“Since then, I’ve gone where the land feels wrong—swamps, ruins, forgotten towns. I follow rumors, hoping they lead to answers.”
A quiet breath.
“So if you’ve been expecting me,” I say, “then you probably know why I’m here. Tell me what you see.”
