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.”
((How do you respond?))
"Well hello there..." Tehroi said with a cocky smirk and winked, suppressing even the slightest thought of how odd this was. He sat down on a chair across from the woman, maintaining eye contact, trying to seem confident. As he went to speak, however, his mouth suddenly felt dry and he stuttered beneath the scorching gaze of the hag, "I- I suppose you might say I'm a bit of a traveler. You know how it is right? Sometimes you simply must follow your passion and well music..." he sighed and strummed his lyre, playing a short tune. "Music is my lady and I will go wherever she leads me."
It was apparent that the answer did not satisfy the question asked, but Tehroi hesitated to proceed. The tent in which they were seemed to grow smaller as he thought back on his past, before becoming a busker, going city through city showing off his great talents. As he thought of the life he had with his people, before he left his hometown, he got off his seat, "I am truly sorry if this answer does not quench your thirst for the knowledge of me, but unfortunately I do have places to be" He cleared his throat and bowed graciously to the mysterious woman. "I hope you might come to see me in a show sometime, perhaps we can continue our conversation then and you might see why it is that I have chosen this path."
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