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?))
Thalleous pauses for a second before sitting down, his posture upright and alert.
His eyes shift to the floating candles and then return to the old woman.
“Yes, I was expecting you?” He speaks softly, a hint of doubt in his tone.
Thalleous breathes out, apparently weighing how much to say.
“Yes, I come from a place far from here, a place with marble halls and books aplenty, a place dedicated to study and learning. But knowledge has a way of growing stale when one never ventures outside their tower, if you understand me?”
Thalleous’ fingers brush over his sleeve distractedly.
“Yes, I left. Not for glory, not for power, but to learn what lies outside those books and scrolls.”
Thalleous’ eyes narrow slightly.
“Yes, this place, this town, has a sense of wrongness to it, like there is something hidden beneath the surface, beneath the rot and the filth.”
Thalleous leans forward a bit, his voice taking on a slightly curious tone.
“Yes, if you were expecting me, what do you think I am meant to find?”
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