Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
Myrrh startles, then relaxes, settling onto the cushion with practiced ease.
"Well, what's there to say really?" she begins, twirling dark locks around her finger. "I suppose it all started when my mother died, and Auntie took over the-Wait, how familiar are you with Velulite practices? Oh you're a fortuneteller of course you know, I'll just skip straight to point.
"I've just received my moon and stars, and begun my pilgrimage-See?" She pulls back her right sleeve to reveal a complex pattern of stars inked into ashen violet skin, accompanied by a foreboding lunar eclipse.
"Turns out, finding yourself is quite expensive these days," the dark elf continues cheerfully. "And let's just say my own soothsaying needs...practice. Auntie wanted to keep me with the caravan another year to 'improve my readings'. Can you imagine!
"Obviously experience is the best teacher, or so I told her, and really where better to get experience than where fortune matters most?
A slip of paper is retrieved from some hidden pocket and slid towards the hag; a listing for the upcoming derby and its participants.
"Anyway, if you could ask the spirits which horse is likely to win in the city this weekend-I've a good feeling about Whiskey Sunset..."
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