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?))
He sat, instinctively pinching his nose against the Gestank a foul contrast to the Zimt and fine spices he once traded. "I was a merchant of some small standing once, ja," he began, his voice carrying a thick, guttural lilt. "But bad luck and Schulden stripped me of every last coin. I’ve come to this verdammt swamp because when you’ve lost everything, you go where the world forgets to look. I’m here to rebuild, even if the very air here tastes like rotten... Holz, sorry wood."
