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?))
Altius' eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, "Expecting me...?", he mumbles to himself. His light green eyes dart around the dark tent, struggling to adjust to the dim, smoky interior. "How odd-" he says to the old hag, quietly moving his hand towards his belt, "-my first time around these parts, and yet, you've been expecting me?". A disinterested kick pushes the cushion to the side, the questioning tone from earlier nowhere to be found as Altius confidently places his hand upon his dagger's hilt. "Who sent you? Hmm? My father?", a smirk crosses his pale face, briefly, before utter disgust clouds it. "I should have known the old bastard wouldn't let me out of his sights so easily! Getting so paranoid about losing his seat as head of house, he's even hiring the likes of lowlifes like you!", he spits on the ground in fury.
Before the old hag even has time to react, Altius frees the dagger from its sheath and run it smoothly through the roof and wall of the tent, a flowing, practised motion. Sunlight seeps in, as does the murmuring of nearby passerby - yet none notice. Free from the confining darkness he can see the old hag's face clearly, and the anger flashing behind her eyes. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU TALK-"
"ENOUGH!", he cuts her off. "If you truly do not know then let me tell you- my father is a power-hungry corpse. A disgusting parasite who doesn't know when to stop...", his face contorts with rage - then stops, a bone-chilling calmness covers it like shadow, "and above all else - a person you'll regret ever meeting."
Sunlight glints off moving steel as the dagger sweeps forth a final time, slicing through something far tougher than tent fabric.
Altius covers the hag with the bloodied tatters of her cloak, his face completely emotionless as he turns to leave, a slight touch knocking a candle from the sky. "Cheap enchantments", Altius mumbles, "should have tried harder if you wanted to scare me". Silence permeates the air, there's nobody left in the tent to reply. He calmly steps out of the tent knowing... by sundown the streets will be illuminated not by oil-lamps, but by blazing arson.
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