Cinisa

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?))

After taking a deep breath, I sink into the cushion after many long days and evenings of trudging along the river and begin my story. "I hail from a small orphanage in the river-based village of Kitrahil. I grew up with many 'brothers and sisters', older and younger, all of scattered races.  None were really related, since I was dropped off on the side of the road on some autumn evening by a mother who surely didn't intend to birth me. I learned of their stories, at least the ones that were old enough to remember what came before. They taught me of their gods, religions, and traditions. They all seemed to come and go, and always left for good on their 18th birthday. I got used to it, not seeing anything wrong. Really, we all just thought they left to become adventurers once they became of age. The orphanage itself wasn't terrible, I grew up doing chores around the building and village to help fund my home. They kept me fed and sheltered, and I was never lonely," I sighed and shifted my gaze to the ground, "Then my own birthday approached. It never really occurred to me what happened to the ones who left. I never heard from them again."

The hag's eyes shined at this comment, I had piqued her interest with this mystery. Her face was somehow ageless in some unnatural way, and it wasn't apparent whether she was in her late twenties or above 100 in age until you looked down at her gnarled hands. My village had always considered magic taboo, so even this detail left me unnerved. I continued on, settling my eyes onto a flickering candle that waved in the air ominously. "Two nights before my eighteenth, one of the younger orphanage boys of whom I'd always considered a close friend shuffled up to my curtain. His older sister who he'd come to the orphanage with had left recently, leaving no trace as per usual. The boy seemed to be in a hurry, and he rushed to my ear. He warned me that I had to leave before my birthday, and that he'd seen what would happen if I didn't. Voice lowered to a whisper, he described how he had watched through his window the night his sister disappeared. Under the cover of darkness, the orphanage nuns had guided his groggy sister into the courtyard, and handed her to a small caravan of strange men and women. One man at the front handed the nuns a small pouch, surely not large enough to be filled with gold. The nun opened the bag to inspect it, a pale glow illuminating her features. She quickly closed the bag again, nodding to the man. The nuns walked back into the orphanage chapel, and the boy watched his sister be carried into the caravan and it roll away into the night."

"When the boy finished, his eyes seemed haunted and I didn't doubt him for a second, despite the outlandishness of his story. As hesitant as I was, I began packing what little I owned into a knapsack I kept at my bedside. I grabbed the darkening goggles that my friend had gifted me earlier that day as a pre-birthday present from my nightstand, since I had always complained of dizziness in the bright morning sun. Wrangling with a loose floorboard, I grabbed the small pile of coins that I had snuck away over the years in hopes of using them on gifts or adventures. Before I left, I asked the boy if he was joining me. He said that it was his duty to stay and figure out what happened to his sister, maybe even save the rest of the orphanage before it was too late, since he had almost 3 years left to do so. I accepted his answer, and we said our goodbyes, wishing each other well.  Then I ran, into the night and away from the village I had always known, looking for somewhere where I'd be accepted."

Finally, I smiled, "And that's how I got here, but you already knew that, didn't you?" I told the witch, recognizing her for what I'd heard from my friends' myths as a seer. She grinned back, revealing a sickly set of teeth I didn't quite beg to see. 

"So I did," she said, "and I also know that your adventures have scarcely begun, Vilmia Parish." Suddenly, the candles flickered, and there was a clattering as they all fell to the floor. I covered my eyes as a cloud of smoke filled the room, and then she was gone. All that was left was a map to my next destination. The gods had favored me today.