SpceSurfer

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?))
Lavinia pauses and stares at the stange old woman only to find her cool gaze returned to her. Such a calm demeanor for such a tiny person she thought. Lavinia clutches the weathered fabric of the makeshift door, unsure of this sudden interest that the old woman now shows. Lavinia steps into the tent and turns to watch the tarp block out the only light that has kept her company during her travels. She straightens her stance and tries to appear put together, something her elders had taught her, even though these weeks on the road have eaten away at that very facade. As she slowly moves to take a seat on the cushion, Lavinia lands on her ankle and stumbles some before allowing her feet to once again guide her. "One foot in front of the other Lavinia." She mumbles as she plopped down onto the cushion. The old woman let out a small chuckle and Lavina felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She gently fans her face before placing her hands onto her lap and speaking. "I am intrigued by your interest, an interest in my story nonetheless." She takes a moment to study the woman's features finding that the chuckle had led to a smile that the face was all too familiar with. The woman's smile had not faded and her appearance seemed to be more welcoming to Lavinia. "Very well then. I have been on the road for several weeks now in search of a place to seek a fresh start. I do not come from a place of persecution or war and do not consider myself a refugee-but do not think that I come from anything less unforgiving." She tilts her head upwards to admire the small candle flames before closing her eyes and before letting out a small satisfied sigh from her lips. Lavinia turns her attention back to the old woman who now seems to be uninterested in her sudden fascination with the candles. "I am seeking change more than anything. I want freedom. I don't want to be another mindless elf working over a scroll for the next 400 years. I want an adventure!" She rises passionately off of the cushion and stands above the old woman with a large grin on her face. A moment of silence follows as Lavinia awkwardly looks down at the woman to find her gaze staring at her impatiently. She clears her throat and continues where she left off. "I'm afraid that what I seek is not possible for me. At least in this town." She slowly sits back down on the cushion. "I have traveled very far and yet I cannot find a place that calls to me. I do not find this small town enticing, much like the others before it. I find it rather suffocating. I do not seek a fortune built of wealth- just one of tranquility." Lavinia starts to pick at a small piece of string from her dresses hem and twirls it around her pointer finger until it snaps. "I hope to find a place where I can settle and form a life of my own. Perhaps a garden full of herbs for teas and medicine. Maybe a few companions and friends alike. But what I do know is that I will not stop until I find the perfect place. Even if I have to travel to the edge of the map only to find that I have to turn around- I simply will not stop. It is my adventure!" Lavinia stares at the old woman for a few moments before she decides to push herself off of the tattered cushion and out throught the front of the tent. She stands by her horse fastening the loose buckles when the old woman pulls back the entrance to the tent to offers Lavinia a nod and a smile which she could have only assumed to be a "good luck."