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?))
Edea eyes the stranger suspiciously. Usually, she can read strangers like a book -- deciphering their character from the twitch of an eyebrow, the intention behind their eyes. But this women remains mysterious. Edea decides to speak anyways.
"I uh..." She trails off, unsure of where to begin. "I got caught in a storm last night and I stumbled into town. You see, I've been traveling for months now." She stops again, unsure of how much to share.
"I was born in a small wooded community. My parents were simple folk -- farmers and tenders to the forest. But they died when I was around five years old, in a huge forest fire. My entire community burned, except me." Edea gulps, recollecting the acrid smell of the smoke.
"I was found by a merchant family. They agreed to raise me. I spent most of my childhood on the road, helping the merchants. But I always longed to return to the woods. When I turned 20, they agreed to let me go off on my own to find another elven community. I've been searching ever since."
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