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?))
Naya raises a brow, her feet faltering at the entrance of the tent. The silence is thick before she heeds the hag and steps further into the tent. She sits herself awkwardly onto the cushion and crosses her legs. Naya keeps her eyes on the woman, tense as she speaks, "You seem to know my face, but that's where your knowledge ends is it?" She stopped a moment, brows tight before continuing, "My name is Naya. My family is Qalasheen, though the Kingdom of Bailan has been my home. My parents brought their trade and skills there long before me, and settled long before me," A pause took hold. Naya has a look on her face filled with clear apprehension at saying much more.
Still, she settles in more and tries to relax and trust the woman. "I am clearly not a trader. I am searching to learn the ways of a warrior, a knight. I want to protect others, the helpless. I wasn't able to once when I was young and now I can, now I must for the sake of my father's work and my mother's grave. This... scar on my face is proof enough of it I'd say. It was... bandits on the road. I was a child and too young to help and... when attacked I ran. And she died, and it was my fault," Naya shakes her head, not enjoying the reliving of the event she described. "I can't bring myself to not dedicate myself to helping those like my mother. I apologize, I'm sure such a story is common to you... Still you've listened to the events of my life without complaint. Shokran. Now I must ask, what told you to expect me?" She clasps her hands together with a lighter heart and a curiosity to sate as she turns the conversation back to the strange hag with an eagerness.
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