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.”
Uh, it's me? Have you seen me before? He'd say nervously breathing and tapping his fingers behind his back. "Uhm, well I'm here simply to seek refuge and possibly to live here. I don't really have much of a story other than the fact that I lived in a grassy plain my entire life before I came here in search of refuge." Realizing he might not be welcome Lucias would simply back away until he was out of the establishment. "I should get going." He said to himself proceeding to do as he said and leave the town.
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