woodylego

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?))

"Nice place you have here," I said. The old hag doesn't react, better to get to the point. "Well, I'm a student, studying alteration. I'm...well looking for a mentor, per say. I've had a few years of training so far, but in order to move on to the independent study portion I need to --"

"I'm aware of the Wizarding scholar's process" says the Old Hag. "I taught at a University myself. But my mentor days are over kid."

"Well, if that's the case," I say. I didn't want her as my mentor to begin with, but better that I not upset her. "I also heard you possess a herb I need for my potion. I was wondering if I could acquire it."

She chuckled a bit, poured a cup of some tea-like substance in her cup and looked at me dead in the eyes. "I suppose if you can fetch me some materials, I could see about trading you some of the herb. If you do it at a speedy pace, I might even teach you how to grow it yourself."

"I guess mentorship isn't so out of the question," I joked. She smiled, slightly, but just for a moment. She hands me a note. 

"Be quick. And be safe. I'd hate to tell Gilfrin you died on my half."

She walked out of her tent cackling. How did she know that name? What did she know? I followed her out but as I left the tent myself, she was gone. 

Note to self: next time we meet, ask her how she knows my Father.