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?))
Isetar looks at the lady, Unable to recall her from any interactions. Not even to organize a meeting at any given point, odd.. "Me..? or is there someone behind me?" Once Isetar could tell she really did mean him he stops talking and takes a seat. "Well, My mom and pa always told me not to speak to suspicious folks like you.. but I suppose I can tell you a little bit." Isetar looks at the hag to make sure she isnt a elf and after a brief second feels relief and talks "My mother was one in a million, Nice lady, Caring mother and Married to a high elf. Ill never know how she managed that, nor how she managed to deal with the day to day." Isetar grins under his hood "She passed recently, ive been just drifting to find a good home, hoping my next stop will do" Isetar begins to stand up awkwardly and coughs before saying in a hushed tone "Please dont mention this to anyone, I get enough from the townsfolk already."
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