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.”
Kael lowers his hood, rain dripping from the edges. He meets the hag’s eyes without flinching.
“I didn't come here by choice,” he says, voice low.
“They exiled me for choosing mercy over blind orders. Since then, the forests have spoken of rot… and they led me here.”
He sits, slowly. “So. You were expecting me—then you already know I don’t trust easily.”
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