shalethehorse

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?))

I sit on the edge of the cushion, a little stiffly, and glance around the tent. The smells are familiar - I will have to take a moment to look at some of the mosses later. 

"I - yes. You've been expecting me. I suppose that makes sense. Well, I'm sure you know some of this but I've come for some... advice, I guess. I come from a family of growers and farmers, well-enough known in the area for a tendency to grow weird stuff. A talent for strange foods, or medicines, or sometimes poisons seems to make itself known in every other relative. I suppose I'm no exception in many ways, but I'm no farmer. I'm sure I can do something more interesting. I've spent the last years learning tinctures and poisons and the things that grow under the earth. I'm guessing you know rather a lot about that particular area - I mean, your tent flap alone is quite the display of fungal species. So, I suppose, I'm hoping for some information. Advice. Help?"

I close my eyes, take a breath, and look the old woman in the eyes, more than a little nervous. 

"I hear you know magic. The magic of the earth or the gods or what have you. I want to learn."

I shift a little on the cushion, head a little higher than when I entered. 

"I know magic isn't just learned they way you would learn about history or cultivation. But I've spent my life listening to the movement of things others don't even know exist. I think - I know - I can do this.  I just need a teacher."