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?))
"Ahoy, llir."
The elfess dipped her head politely toward the stranger, a tip of her hat following. She then began to scan their surroundings, giving a nod of both approval and semi-fascination.
"Fancy place you have here. I may have to say I came here simply for you."
Cecilya chuckled at her own jest.
"I've spent some time exploring, but now I think it best to settle on a thriving land."
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