Haloayla

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?))

Laurelin shifted the fabric of the tent with the back of her hand as she slipped into the cramped space. She stood quietly, staring toward the old hag with a rather judgemental and sceptical look as she took in the features of the old woman. She hesitated in speaking initially, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it a short moment after. Her brows furrowed slightly in thought, not wishing to spare more words than she had to. "Is this how you make ends meat?" She asked sadly. "Scamming strangers?" Laurelin spoke with a frown, staring idly toward the woman before she then backed out of the tent.

Whether or not the old hag gave a response back to her, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Laurelin quickly peered into the basket she had been carrying around, making note of each her items to ensure nothing had mysteriously vanished after entering that tent. Satisfied with her belongings all intact, she'd quickly wander off with a meaningful pace.