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 slides onto the cushion, long fingers brushing the worn fabric. His red eyes catch the candlelight, unmoving, calculating.
“I’m… not from here,” he begins, voice low, precise. “I’ve walked through deserts no map remembers, and forests older than your swamp. I’ve seen men break, and shadows swallow whole towns. I’ve learned to survive… alone.”
He leans back slightly, letting the silence fill the tent. “I came because someone I was hunting… ended up here. I follow them, and I won’t stop until I do. That’s all you need to know about me.”
