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.”
((How do you respond?))
Prairie frowns and sits on the cushion, though there is apparent reluctance on her face. "You must be a witch. For I do not know you..." Prairie removes her sword from her hip, placing it on the floor next to her as she crosses her legs. Meeting the hag's gaze, Prairie responds coolly. "I'll share my story.. so long as you keep it to yourself." The young half elf sat up straight. "If you were expecting me you likely already know my name. It's Prairie Ash'n. I travel alone from place to place, surviving off the land. My fathers taboo of forming a relationship with my human mother led to me being born. Father chose to stay with the high elves over mother and I, so she raised me in some cottage in the middle of no where. She wasn't the social-able type. I learned how to live on my own through what little she taught me before she passed. How to hunt, gather underground resources, and how to traverse terrain quickly. Honestly, she taught me how to distrust others the most. So Hag," Prairie's hand rests on her blade off to the side. "Why should I trust you?"
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