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.”
Ardeth allows herself to sit opposite the crone, her skirts tucked under her and hands relaxed against her knees. Her nails have evidence of grime, scars from farm work, and callouses. Her face however smiles softly, the split in her front teeth notable.
”Aye! I don’t remember asking to see you but,” She laughs lightly, her knuckle twitching. “Company is company.”
Taking a moment to take in the question the crone has asked, Ardeth scratches her chin absently. Her tone is reminiscent as she answers. “Well, my papa thought I could use some more money to help with the farm, I lived on one my whole life,” She adds gesturing with her hands.
”Crops been failing and such so I thought a new life out here might help them, hopefully.”
She pauses for breath tilting her head and looking up for a second, her knuckle twitching again against her knee, almost anxious.
”I think the city and its people might be able to help, you see I’m the oldest of 4 siblings and while they are all either dead,” She smiles sheepishly, “Or working elsewhere, I’ve been tasked with seeking a cure for my crops!”
She smiles, “But maybe I’ll find it better out here! Start my own mill and prove my papa wrong!” She clasps her hands together enthusiastically.
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