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.”
Nedvir sits reluctantly on the cushion. He is weary to trust this stranger, though his legs ache from the previous days of travel.
"Well," he starts, "I suppose if you were expecting me, you would know what brought me here."
His eyes scan the tent. Candles flicker shadows on the fabric walls; haunting shapes of cloth and dust. The old hag waits patiently for an answer. Silent. Curious.
"This is not where I meant to end up, though I'm sure you know how plans can change. I come from Nevaehlen. My family has hit troubled times, and my hope was to make a living in one of the mainland cities, though due to the weather I ended up here. My boat, small as she was to begin with, is in need of repairs, and if it's not too much to ask, I would appreciate a break from the rain."
Nedvir looks back up at his audience, and after a moment she nods. "Very well." she says, and pulls out a small key. "This will let you into that far shack. Worry not about your boat."
Nedvir takes the key, feeling it's surprising weight in his hand. He stands up and turns to thank the old hag, but he is left alone in the tent, candles snuffed, and only with sound of the wind outside to keep him company.
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