Kyhat

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.”

 

Elaris tilts her head slightly, her light blue eyes catching the flickering candlelight as she considers the old hag’s words. A small, guarded smile plays on her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Expecting me, were you?” Her voice carries a note of curiosity, tinged with caution. She brushes the edge of her cloak absentmindedly, as if grounding herself. “I suppose there’s little room for secrets in places like this.”

She pauses, her gaze growing distant for a moment before she speaks again, her tone softer but laced with an edge. “I come from a village far from here—a place long gone, just like the people I called family. Bandits took my parents, but the details of that day are… hazy. Perhaps my mind thought it kinder to forget.” Her fingers tighten slightly on her cloak, but she quickly masks the gesture with a wry smirk.

“I’ve been traveling ever since, searching for somewhere to belong. Yet every town, every camp, feels wrong somehow. Maybe I’m meant to be on the road forever.” She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “An orphan learns quickly how to survive, though the lessons aren’t always kind. Someone once taught me the art of persuasion—it’s served me well. But they, too, left, like everyone else. So, I do what I must to keep moving, even if it means… less virtuous choices.”

Her gaze locks with the hag’s, sharp and probing. “Now, tell me… What is it you’ve been expecting of me?”

The hag lets out a dry, rasping chuckle, her gnarled fingers curling around the edge of the wooden table. Her eyes, milky with age but sharp with intent, bore into Elaris with unsettling familiarity.

“Ah, child,” she says, her voice like the creak of old wood. “You carry the weight of too many masks. A wanderer, a survivor, a shadow among the flames. But tell me—are you here to find something… or to lose something?”

Elaris leans back slightly, her expression unreadable as she studies the old woman. “That depends,” she replies coolly, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in her tone. “What do you think I’m here to find? Or lose, for that matter?”

The hag’s smile widens, revealing crooked yellowed teeth. “Perhaps it’s answers you seek, though I doubt you’ll admit it. Or perhaps you’re running—from what, I cannot say, but it’s a clever little trick you’ve played. Always moving, never settling. You think if you stay ahead of it, it can’t catch you.”

Elaris stiffens, her fingers curling tighter against her cloak. “You seem to know an awful lot for someone I’ve never met,” she murmurs, her voice low and guarded. “Are you going to speak in riddles all night, or do you have something more useful to share?”

The hag chuckles again, leaning forward so that her shadow stretches long and twisted in the candlelight. “Useful? Oh, that depends on how honest you’re willing to be with yourself. The road you’ve walked is far, and cruel as it may be, it has made you strong. But strength without purpose is a flame without kindling—it burns bright but consumes itself in time.”

Elaris narrows her eyes, a flicker of irritation breaking through her practiced calm. “If you think I’m here for a lecture, you’re mistaken,” she says, her words clipped. “What do you know, old woman? What is it you’ve been expecting of me?”

The hag’s grin fades, and her tone grows somber. “You’ve been searching for something—perhaps a place, perhaps a truth. And in your search, you’ve left shadows behind you. But some shadows… they follow, child. And when they catch up, they demand payment.”

The room falls silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Elaris’s light blue eyes harden, her lips pressing into a thin line. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ll have to do better than that,” she says, though her voice is quieter now, tinged with an unease she can’t quite suppress.

The hag chuckles one last time, leaning back into the shadows of her tent. “Oh, I don’t need to scare you,” she whispers. "You're already scared".