She has an eyepatch and is often clad in armor and/or flowing robes.
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?))
"Well, this certainly ain't ominous at all," Hiltagard muttered, taking a tentative step inside as the faint glint of candlelight danced upon her armor. It didn't take long for the elf to stride across the tent's interior, sitting before the hag to study her in turn. "Where to start? I'm, uh. A bit of an oddity among my people, I suppose. Never knew my real folks, y'see," she explained, recalling old memories. "According to the weefolk that were nice enough t' raise me, I was left on the steps of their smithy in a basket when I was just a tot! Since then, I've been perfecting my craft under their tutelage. There was only so much they could teach me, so now I'm on a journey to soak up as many different types of craftsmanship as I can. A journey that's not all sunshine and rainbows though, as you can probably tell." Hiltagard tapped the eyepatch covering her left eye, the result of an encounter she had with some bandits.
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