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.”
Gloreir stares at the old hag silently as if contemplating what to say, he talks a stool and sat down before looking up to see the old hag's eyes "I believe my story is one of ordinary, nothing too special and nothing too unique." he says with a low voice. "I'm only wandering about, looking for trails as my faded memory keep reminding me of the word 'Tali'heiuh'... There is something special about that word and my body let me here." Gloreir said as he looked down at his hands with deep thoughts in his eyes.
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