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?))
A tension fills the fetid swamp air as Starbrew motions to talk, pausing for a moment to consider his next words carefully. He wasn't a fighter, good enough with a bow in a pinch but not nearly profficient enough to defend against the malice of a hag scorned. He swallowed his fear, and pressed slowly into the tent. "I am not familiar with your ways, wise woman, so you must forgive my trepass in your home. I've come in search of guidance. In my distant hometown, an age away from these lands, I spent my youth tending the land. I've become a true artisan in culitvating the lands for the good of hearth and home, but my soul yearns for more. While I may not posess the magical affinity of others blessed with the arcane, my family has always shared some innate ability within the alchemical arts. Unfortunately I was sent away from my homelands due to some..." He paused, unsure of how much he even needed to share given the Hag's obvious insight into facts unseen to her goffy eyes. "...misunderstandings. Nevertheless, I remain keen to begin what would have been my training, if only to continue my traditions and study the craft of my ancestors. If you would be willing, I would have you teach me the ways of the potion. How to bend and shape the natural essence of flora and fauna to my own will.
Elias paused once more, if only to take the temperature of the conversation. His eyes scanned over the Hag, as if only to peer into the musings of the wise woman's contemplation. Would she be willing to part with ancient secrets so willingly? Or was the price for this mentorship too much to ask?
The Hag stumbled to her feet and scrawled something hastily onto a yellowed peice of parchment.
She turned with a laboured groan, her joints betraying her extraordinaily long lifespan to those that would dare to notice it.
Elias has handed the note through shaking, mottled fingers. He felt as though he had already overstayed his welcome, and so without even taking a breath to read the Hag's words, he left. Regardless of what was on this note, his life would ultimately be changed one way or another. Best that it happen somewhere less oppressive, preferrably over a warm fire and the security of four square stone walls to keep the darkness at bay.
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