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?))
Elyas pauses and looks at the old woman, a bewildered stare fixing on his face. After a few moments of silence, he nods and slumps his pack off of his back onto the floor. He kneels down carefully to sit on the cushion.
"Why were you expecting me?"
Elyas' voice is rough and weak - the voice of someone who has spent more of their nights in uncomfortable places then in comfortable beds.
"I was told this village might have work to offer, but there's nothing special about me that would have someone expecting me. I'm the son of a farmer who decided far too late he didn't want to farm. Now, I wander and I've been away from home so long I doubt I have one to go back to."
Elyas eyes narrow at the floating candles before looking back at the old woman.
"Candles don't float on their own," Elyas muttered and then whispered an old Farfolk protection to himself. "Who exactly are you?"
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