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?))
Ahernnon sits, folding his long limbs under himself until he can sit on the cushion with passable comfort. "Karin'ayla, my lady. I hoped you to expect me, for I hear you are the town head I had arranged a bed piece with for the night." As he speaks, his gaze passes over the acoutrements of the dingy tent, his eyes lingering over the floating candles and a conspicuous stack of well-used books stacked in a shaded corner. He, notably, avoids the gaze of the hag.
"I am travelling onwards, hoping to find a city before the end of The Amber Cold. My goodly father provided me with great provisions for my travels, but I do not trust I will find the place I search for as soon as my late mother's wishes had urged me to..."
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