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?))
"Hm?" the fair-haired man looked the old hag up and down. The left corner of his lip raised a little. He remained standing. "... I assume you are Marrian; we exchanged some letters, no?"
He started to extend his hand for a polite greeting, but then hesitated and withdrew it back to his side. "You want to know my story, don't you? Well, truth be told, it hasn't even begun yet. I am Liamme Elbar, son of Talia and Ellisol. I had a decent childhood, nothing special. I spent most of my time in their bookstore and..." He began to pace around the room, looking at the filthy, tattered canvas of the tent. His eyes—glistening in the candlelight—darted to the candles suspended in the air before he pivoted around on his foot and rested his gaze on the woman again. "Ehm... right, where was I? I left the house without much, except a hunger for knowledge. But enough about me, what about the flower you mentioned?"
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