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?))
K'Sante dragged his frame over to the chair, giving it a long, pointless examination. In his eyes the hag would be able to see intense focus akin to that of an animal stalking its prey. After a long bit of silence, he finally sat down and scooted forward, the seat's legs screeching along the floor. "I know not of you. Why do you expect me." His voice filled the acoustics of the room, a deep dark yet nasally tone. The hag was somewhat startled, yet recovered her composure before speaking: "I keep track of all newcomers, it's my job dear. A bit of icebreaking never hurt anyone." She paused given the lack of response before continuing. "You're one of those Azirs, yes? I've seen a couple of you folk pass through this town." K'Sante reflected on this, letting his back hit the head of the chair in rest.
"Speak lightly. My kin are not names in a book." He spoke dryly "I'm sure you've been told something similar by the likes of them. While I appreciate the greeting I hold a higher stance of formality." He leaned forward following a pause, lacing his fingers together in his lap and rested his elbows on his knees. His bulky frame seemed to tower over the shriveled woman even at such distance. "Know this: There will be two more. My brothers. I have no ill intent with you, and I can speak for them in same." His back arose, and a palm propped his hip straight upwards resting on his quad. The various jewels pierced and fitted to his body and clothes patted against his skin, the deafening silence broken by such. "I will humor you with a story I'm sure you've been told. My kin serve the likes of our Sultana. Nothing more. I hold spiritual fervor to fulfilling this duty. If the likes of you were to get in the way, we will crush you." He arose in one swift motion, though his height never seemed to stop rising to the woman. He eyed her coldly, and the air seemed to go completely dry. The woman struggled to swallow, her trembling eyes darting between each of his, before he finally turned and headed out of the tent, offering nothing more to the now uneasy elder.
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