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.”
Julep sits cross-legged on the proffered cushion, smile on their face and eyes glinting in the dim candlelight. "Ain't that just a treat! Not many friendly folk like you 'round here. 'Specially in a place like this... Er, not that there's anything wrong with it or anythin'! Just the, ah, reception hasn't been..." They trail off.
"Your story, dear one," the crone repeats, voice creaking like an old cellar door parted for too long from some grease. Julep stops short, before grinning with relief, their faux-pas forgiven.
"Right! Name's Julep, ma'am, it's a pleasure. Family's full'a farmers on the outskirts of the realm. Lived there all my life. Decided it was right time for me to get out 'n see the world! What with all the magicks and whatnots out there, I figure wherever I go, there'll be a story worth hearing."
Their smile softens into something more wistful, and their gaze drops to their lap. "I had an older brother - Always goin' on about bein' some kind of Knox-on-wood hero. Left when I was a kid, and I haven't heard from 'im since. Maybe I'll find him somewhere out here. I'm hopin' I can be someone he'd be proud of. Ma always said I was too cooped up on that farm, just like Thorn..."
Julep snaps back to reality, and rubs the back of their neck, grinning sheepishly. Even for some magic old lady, that's probably too much oversharing for the first conversation. The old woman says nothing, so they pick back up again after a moment of silence.
"So, you know any good place 'round here to eat?"
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