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?))
"Fate would bring me to your hovel it would seem..." Taking a seat cautiously, "Pray, what would the woman of the wood need from an elf?" Chuckling to herself "Story? You are looking for a bardic journey from The Silver City that the Mali'aheral hail?" Her tone shifting a bit from jovial to devoid of emotion, pausing a moment, she echoes the thought in her head aloud "Sanctuary from scrutiny..." the silence deafens for a moment before she breaks it back to a jovial tone "Sometimes adventure can lead to finding yourself, happiness, or even things you had thought lost you never had." she shifts uncomfortable in her seat "In truth, I come from a bastard lineage, I was called unclean...impure. My mother and I..." her pause lingers as she shudders "We-" Holding her necklace close to her chest "I escaped. And now I live. Nothing more. I know not what is expected of me outside of the City, but I know I am no longer welcome in its walls" Her eyes narrow as she dips her head before holding her chin up like she was taught all those years ago. She stands and her posture exhumes an air of shaky confidence. "So my story is starting. I feel adventure around every twisting path I take and I plan to allow it to sweep me up and make up for time lost in the walls of a society that tosses away its kin like spoiled rations."
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