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.”
"Oh, Karin'ayla" he eyed the woman, almost as if he was judging her in a way. "Me? You know of me? Who are you Crone" The High elf questioned back to her, before sighing "I am lost, I do not know where I am or how I got here. Just give me a map" he spat, taking a seat on a stool nearby. "My story is of no concern to you, I just wish to find a place to rest"
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