You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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?))
"Rather nosey for someone I just met aren't you? Well since this weather doesn't seem to be passing anytime soon, there isn't much harm in sharing a story or two between travelers while we wait is there?"
"As long as I can remember I've been wandering from city to city searching for people who are more enlightened, rather than the usual townsfolk who would rather steal everything you have to your name before introducing themselves. As such I seek a audience with those gifted with arcane knowledge and maybe if I'm lucky one of the fabled Sculptors that I have read about since I was young."
"I must say it is Rather odd that you would be so keen to hear my story?" I give the unknown woman a glare filled with suspicion.
"Are you perhaps a lookout for some local brigands looking for a easy target to attack? Or maybe a thief waiting to steal from me while I sleep after lowering my guard with tales of far away lands?" "Do forgive me I have always had such a overactive imagination! The name is Alfric by the way, or did you already know that perhaps?" I smile at the woman trying to discern her reason for singling me out.
A broken man down on his luck is all that these people ever see, simply a fool to be stolen from or beaten for entertainment that is how it has always been. But if I could learn from these individuals known as Sculptors I could finally have some peace of mind, after all what could make for a more trustworthy companion then a being made from ones own hands?
