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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?))


Lokiel looked at the hag like she was a waste of time. "Based on your weird exposition about me, you probably know a lot already? Why should I bother telling you, old hag? Gonna carry those secrets to the grave? Guess it's not too big of a deal, then, you wouldn't be taking them far. Fine. I'll tell you about myself. I don't talk to anybody, because I've got nothing to gain from talking to anyone. Think you're special? Thought I was going to tell you about it? Why would I? I'm a high elf of Celia'nor, just be happy your little hut isn't on fire. Or shall I change that?"

The hag just kinda walks away, a little mad but kinda too scared to say or do anything about it, but shoots that one rebellious 'I'll-get-you-one-day' look but really she's just gonna walk out that hut and is thinking 'Hopefully no one remembers this' what a waste of my goddamn time. Get real, ex-machina. You're telling me this prompt is in character? You got hags just hanging around? Damn, I hope if I meet them they don't metagame my name, then we'd be back at the start and I'd be talking in an extended paragraph of very slight exposition and self-contradiction. Damn."