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?))
*Khovago would gag from the stench of rot and decay. Her skin was covered in bumps from the dense cool air. Her body felt out of place in such a damp environment. Upon finding the woman she would feel tense as she entered. She breathed deeply before responding. “My parents believed it was time for me to find something greater than our life of wandering. However, our southeronian traditions spoke seeking guidance from one who could see beyond the present. Unfortunately our family no longer possesses such wisdom. Therefore I have come to you seeking wisdom that might grant me purpose and drive for which I can strive. I have fought my whole life to survive in my family's ways and had to compete for everything I have ever owned. I fear I will be unable to fit in outside the southern deserts that I called home for I have known little else. Please give me guidance for without it I know not what I will do.” *She said, speaking in a humble and respectful tone, treating the woman as she would any elder of her own tribe. Her voice never wavering but holding an aura of true desire for understanding.*
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