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?))
Khel'Athri, with a subtle look of confusion on her face, sits down, adjusting her clothes. "Hello, Ma'am. I come from a family of the Shadeleaf line. Sadly, my parents passed away from disease when I was 19, leaving me behind as the new head of house. I have one younger brother, who is now 19, but I sent him to learn self-defense in the mountains of Celia'nor. As for me, I am on my way to Fi'andria, hoping to join a suitable house and perhaps eventually become a well-respected member of the city, so that when my brother is done training, he can join me and will want for nothing. As for this town, I found myself getting drowsy, and stopped here in hopes of a place to rest until the morning."
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