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.”
She shutters for a moment, but falls down on the cushion, “My name’s Azora Encaryn but I am sure you know that if you’ve been expecting me.” “here goes nothing” I huff under my breath “I grew up in the forest lost both of my parents by the time I was 8 years old.” Heavy sigh, pushing through “I stayed in the forest because it was safe and traded with nearby villagers to keep allies.” “Taught myself how to care for animals, and how to fight when necessary, so that I don’t disappear.” sigh.
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