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 myself onto the cushion, the damp air clinging to my cloak like regret. For a moment, I say nothing—only watch the candle flames drift in slow circles above us, as though they too are listening.
“My name,” I begin, voice steady despite the rot in the air, “is Robert Damsor."
The hag’s thin smile twitches.
“I was once a lord of Valedorn—a kingdom of iron banners and colder loyalties. I was not born to silk and silver. I earned it.”
I rest my gloved hands on my knees.
“I bled for King Aldric in the northern campaigns. When the Frost Marches rebelled, I led the vanguard through sleet and arrow-fire. When famine threatened the western provinces, I opened my own granaries before the crown did. In his court, I was his voice of reason. In war, his shield.”
A bitter breath escapes me.
“And yet… it took only whispers to undo what steel and loyalty built.”
I look toward the tent’s entrance, where the swamp fog creeps like memory.
“There was a maid in the royal quarters—Lysa. Forgotten by most. Overlooked. She stank of ale and spite. I paid her no mind. That was my mistake.” My jaw tightens. “She and her accomplices spun a tale—claimed I siphoned treasury gold during the Frost Marches. Forged ledgers. Planted coins in my caravans. Swore they saw me in shadowed corridors where I had never walked.”
The candles flicker violently for a moment.
“After all I had done… King Aldric chose to believe them.”
I laugh once, hollow.
“No trial by combat. No council inquiry. Just a decree. My titles stripped. My lands seized. My estates given to lesser men who once bowed when I passed. My family disowned me to protect their standing. My soldiers…” I swallow. “My soldiers were ordered to stand down as I was escorted from the capital like a common thief.”
The swamp outside croaks with unseen life.
“I lost everything in a single sunrise. Gold can be stolen. Lands can be seized. But honor?” My eyes lift to meet hers. “Honor, once stained, spreads like ink in water.”
I lean forward slightly.
“So I wandered. From tavern to border town. From battlefield to back alley. Searching for proof. For allies. For anything that could unmask the lie.”
My voice lowers.
“And then I heard whispers of this town. Of a hag who sees what others cannot. Who knows the threads beneath the tapestry.”
A pause.
“If you’ve been expecting me… then you know I did not come for comfort.”
My gaze hardens.
“I came for truth. And perhaps… some clarity."
