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?))
Example: (delete this)
Ardashir pauses - his hand creeps towards his sword hilt. Even with steel close at hand he is wary of the danger a magi can pose.
"You know my face, Crone?" Ardashir asks while eying the decrepit woman carefully. "Then you should know my story too."
The woman seems to pose no risk (for now) and so the Qalasheeni begins to relax. He keeps one cautious eye on the woman's hands. An upbringing out in the desert leaves a person as keen-sighted as a hawk, able to spot shapes - and people - out of place in the shifting sands...
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