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?))
The young man stands straight, water still dripping from his cloak. As he moves further into the tent, his boots leave dark marks on the reed-strewn floor. The flickering candlelight catches on the bronze clasp of his cloak, which shows the mark of a distant, sun-warmed land.
"You have been expecting me, haven't you? – he asks, his tone steady yet playful – Then your sight reaches beyond the marsh fog, old lady. It's remarkable that few people here would notice a traveler from a wilder place."
He glances around the tent before sitting down on the cushion. He doesn’t seem completely relaxed, but he doesn’t appear afraid either. His grey, bright eyes stay locked on the other person’s.
"My story?", he continues, resting his hands on his knees. "The journey from the Andrast hills to this mire is long, and most of it is best forgotten. But if you really saw me arrive, you might already know what I'm after: I'm looking for the person known as the Mire-Seer. They say she remembers the old names, the ones the rivers have erased from their memory. May I ask if you are, indeed, the hag of the fen?"
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