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?))
"Ah, have you been expecting me? My travels lead me to places of power, and I believe I may have discovered one such place nearby. I have heard rumors of this area and decided my studies would best be furthered in the field, rather than a library. I am not new to the magical arts, but I am indeed new to their implementation in practical use. Perhaps a woman of your skill in divination has much to teach me?"
As he speaks, Aelwyn gingerly takes a seat, brushing his robes under him to stop them from catching on his legs as he sits down. His eyes light up, brighter than before, as she speaks and he responds. Clearly he has been itching to speak with someone about his magical studies, as few have the understanding needed to keep up. Before long, he tapers off and ends with a question as he realizes he had begun to ramble.
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