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?))
Nixira raises her brows in surprise at the hags recognition in her "I must have a unique face if I'm being recognized so soon into my journey." she jokes lightly with a smile as she moves to sit as instructed. "what is there to tell? I'm a dark elf like any other, I come from Nor-velyth to no ones shock I'm sure." Nixira huffs amusement and shakes her head "but obviously I wouldn't leave home to come to your riveting town. I've lost my muse, my reason for creating." the amusement in her huff was replaced with annoyance as she pouted.
"I'm an artist, my whole reason in life is to create. I've hit a wall at home, I need a change." she sighs and looks ahead at the slit in the tattered tent exposing the swampy town that someone like Nixira would never visit in the past. "so now I travel, I follow the moon and all her beauty and I paint what inspires me. Scenery, Animals, Other travelers."
she smiles now as if taking pride in the art she has yet to create. "the world can always do with more art." she now faces the hag, smile still prominent on her face as she now grabs at her bag "would you mind if I made you my first?"
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