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.”
Zephyr looked around in the tent for a moment before taking a seat on the cushion that the old woman gestured for him to sit on. Upon him taking a seat, he'd give the older lady a dip of his head, displaying a sense of respect towards her for her hospitality. Zephyr took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering the hag's question, responding to her in a rather low tone, "I am just traveling, falling in my cousin's footsteps, who also took a leave from home and spent time adventuring to find himself in these lands." The elven male paused for a second before continuing to address her. "Where are my manners? My name is Zephyr Cerucil, and I stray from the lands of Celia'nor."
He'd stop speaking for a bit as he heard the elderly women respond to his statements. After taking a moment to take in all the words that the woman said, he'd raise a brow at her last comment pertaining to expecting him. "I have a small question for you, ma'am. Could you answer why you were expecting me, and how might you have known I was coming to these barren lands?"
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