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?))
The man steps into the tent, the damp fabric brushing against his armored shoulder. He removes his helmet slowly, tucking it beneath his arm as candlelight flickers across his stern face. For a moment, he studies the old hag in silence, his jaw tightening.
He shifts his weight, boots scraping softly against the dirt floor.
“I am accustomed to being the one who asks the questions,” he says evenly, his voice calm but edged with authority. He lowers himself cautiously onto the cushion she indicated, though his posture remains rigid.
“However… since you claim you were expecting me, perhaps this is where I am meant to be.”
He pauses, glancing briefly toward the tent’s entrance as if ensuring no one followed him.
“I am searching for my wife,” he continues, his tone tightening slightly despite his discipline. “She departed for Eldwyn with her father last month and has not returned.”
His gloved hand curls faintly into a fist.
“They were transporting an ancient Dwarven necklace. I fear their disappearance is tied to it.”
He lifts his gaze back to the hag, determination settling in his expression.
“Any assistance you can provide would be met with my great gratitude. You have the word of it .”
