Craftian

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?)) Kóri stayed standing, near the entrance, as if unsure whether to stay or not. He eyed the old woman with suspicion before speaking nervously. "Story?" I.. I aint got no story to tell yeh. I ain't got no story at all... so don't be askin' me..." For such a burly man, he seemed to lack any confidence, and it was clear he was trying—And failing—to hide something. He turned to leave but thought a moment, and instead came closer, sitting down. “Well… I s’pose I could explain a bit… but yeh gotta promise no one’s gonna hear this from yeh…” he gazed around the tent suspiciously, ensuring there wasn’t anywhere for someone to be hiding. If there was, however, he couldn’t tell. He began speaking again in a hushed tone, “I’ve been overseas for quite awhile, exploring and such. I was with a party of other dwed, but all of them have since met their end. I’d rather not go into details… whenever I think of it, i feel like vommiting. I… started heading back fer home, but as soon as I got back, I came to find out that my home has been destroyed too… and now I’ve got nowhere to go… maybe this is punishment fer not protecting my comrades. I dunno. Now I just want to find any survivors of whatever happened to my homeland…”