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?))
Not quite understanding the situation that Hileia has gotten herself into she whips her head backwards assuming that the woman was addressing another. Quickly she realizes the elderly woman is speaking to her. She swiftly bowed her head to try and show at least a little respect as her parents taught her to. "It seems you might be mistaken Miss... For some reason your identity is a mystery to me." Hileia quickly reasons that this must be some sort of divine timing so she hunkers down on the cushion crossing her legs and readies herself to have a quick chat with the elder. "If you must know, I come from a long lineage of alchemists and medics so I'm on my way to the land of Nor'Asath where many other dark elves stay. Hopefully, there I can finally begin my training and honing in on my craft! I hope that I can continue the family legacy." Hileia spouts to the woman with a child like grin on her face. "But enough speaking about myself I'm quite intrigued by you! I've told you quite a bit so can I at least get your name?" Hiliea asks excitedly as she leans in ready for an answer from the elderly woman across from her.
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