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.”
*As the dark elf stepped inside the tattered tent, she lightly squinted, her eyes adjusting as they lay upon the woman. Ilmra's head tilted as she followed the short questioning with a request, sitting down upon the cushion and crossing her legs as she lightly huffed; her eyes locked with the hag's, beginning.* "There is not much to tell about my story; I was born and raised in the northeast of here, it was a small town--peaceful," *she said, raising her fist to rest her chin atop, lost in thought. After a little while, she continued,* "My hunting party was making their way west. I was assigned to gather supplies for the night while they continued hunting, but they never returned; I had become separated from them. I happened to see smoke coming from this direction, so I decided to investigate in hopes it was them."
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