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?))
I lower my hood and let the swamp drip off my armor before stepping inside. The candlelight catches my green eyes as I glance at the cushion, then back to her.
“Didn’t come for comfort,” I say, voice rough but steady. “Came because the road keeps ending in blood, and every ending points here. I fight, I survive, and somehow I’m still standing.”
I sit, armor creaking softly.
“So… you said you were expecting me. That means you already know the rest.”
