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?))
"Expecting me..?" Rudeus takes a few unsure steps forward. He stands tall over the hag, yet he can sense her wisdom. "Are you all seeing?" *assumed silence* "Very well, may I take a seat?" The hag does nothing more than nod. He gently pulls the chair out and takes the seat quietly, with his hands in his lap he begins, "I am Rudeus Haraldsen, son of Harald and Naess. I grew up in a small village within the northern plains, where my father was a low-ranking nobleman responsible for guarding the village. I have always had an interest for magic and while studying it some-odd five years ago the people of my village disappeared. I left my studies before they could properly begin. Since, I have been adventuring from town to town in search of my parents... In search of their captor or killer. May I ask your name?" The answer he receives shocks him. His eyes widen, his throat dries, and his mouth hung slightly agape. Steadfastly he straightens his already perfect posture.
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