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?))
"Oh I uh...heh." The elf rubs the back of his head, trying to hide his shock that someone was actually inside the tent. Envu slips onto the cushion, clearing his throat to introduce himself, "I'm going to be honest, Ma'am, my story is pretty scattered. If you want my past, that's a no-can-do. Present? I'm just a humble Groundskeeper!" a sheepish grin grows on his face, before shaking it off and adjusting his posture. "Sooo... Need your tent cleaned? I was just trying to look around, honest!"
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