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?))
For a man- or elf, who hadn't eaten or slept in the last two days, Avenir was getting quite impatient. It was a relief when he found the shabby settlement. The wandering elf had stumbled into the tent with intentions of getting some type of work, anything would do really. Even mercenary work if it meant getting some coin, then he could pay for a room in the inn. He almost salivated at the idea of warm food.
When the old hag spoke to him, Avenir crossed his arms with an inquisitive look on his face. He doesn’t have time for this crone’s ramblings. He swallows his pride after a second and clears his throat. He speaks with an unwavering tone, “My name is Avenir. I’m a traveler as of now.” He looks around and raises one brow. “You were waiting for me? What for?”
Avenir puts a hand on his sheathed sword. He won’t divulge any more information unless the hag tells him what she wants…
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