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?))
"Me? I didn't realize I was expected, miss, but here goes..."
Teyvar takes a seat on the cushion, drawing in a deep breath before beginning his story.
"I began traveling here several weeks ago. Where 'here' is, precisely, I'm afraid I'm not sure. I do know, however, that I'm headed somewhat in the right direction of the Northern Geographical Society. I have read much about this Society, and would like to observe and learn about them personally, and perhaps even join them, should they have me." Teyvar stops there, revealing little of his origin, but hoping this old lady could point him to where he wants to go.
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