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?)
Callaia eyes the hag suspiciously, but slowly moves to sit down. She glances around, examining the dreary surroundings.
Her gaze moves back to the hag as she begins to speak, "I'm searching for a place to make my home.. rest assured, I didn't intend to end up here." She grimaces slightly. "I'm awfully poor with directions, it seems. I was hoping to find a nice city to settle down in, but i must have taken a wrong turn somewhere."
She sighs with a frown. It hadn't been too long since she was banished from her family. The circumstances were quite outrageous-- absolutely overdramatic, but her family weren't the lenient sort. One night of drunken fun in the local tavern was enough to cause serious consequences. It wasn't like she was unused to the eccentric strictness of the family, but she surely didn't expect this outcome.
"It pains me to be put in such a position," she says with a bruise to her ego, "but I have run out of supplies to keep my journey going. I have not eaten in a couple days. You wouldn't happen to have anything... edible around here?"
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