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.”
*With a bow of his head, Adelwine strolls over the seat he is gestured over. Prior to his speech, he empties his lungs with an exhale.*
My story though from old, still strives to persue on. Long as I keep breathing, I shall roam these lands to be present in the defence of my opressed kin!
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