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.
((How do you respond?))
Thistle looks at the woman with beady eyes, before flipping his robe and plopping himself down on the cushion. "What can I help you for", he asks - his booming voice unbefitting his small stature.
"Tell me a story, about you" the lady croaks out, eying up the small man with the purple robe.
Without hesitation, the halfling replies "Im a mage, or rather, going to be one. You see, I come from the Pontifical States, Grense to be exact, lived there all my life. Now, I'm turning over a new chapter, im going to Celia'nor to learn magic, provided they take me that is!".
Laughing, he continues "Back in Grense I wasn't exactly the best behaved; this one time, I tried to lift some bread from one of the stalls but well... it didnt go as planned. As punishment, my parents sent me off, I have 3 years of magic training to do before I'm allowed to step foot back home, so now, well, I'm here I guess" He says, shrugging. "With 3 years left to go"

Recommended Comments