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?))
Atlas bows her head respectively, before sitting down on the cushion. Atlas looks up at the old hag and smiles politely, brushing some of her own hair behind her ear. "I grew up in a small woodland tribe, I was raised by the elders of my people. I left my tribe in search of adventure and knowledge, but mainly... I was looking for a place where I felt I belonged, and people I could call family. My journey so far has led me here, to your home." Atlas glanced around the tent as she spoke, her head turning back towards the old hag.
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