VodkaTrackpant

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 swamp?" 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 old wizard gave the hag a look, and within his saphire eyes, should she be so perceptive as to notice, there'd been a look of curiousity beneath the glaze of neutrality.

"Expecting me?" The old wizard inquired in a voice aged as his wrinkly face as he leaned against his staff so that it may help him stand, "I do not recall sending word of my arrival to any of this region." The old wizard began to twist some stray hairs upon his long white beard as he awaited a response.

"You did not. However, wizard, you of all should know I've eyes and ears amongst the buzzing swamps," The old hag cackled. Her lips churned into a smile revealing yellow teeth rotted as the wooden shacks and cabins the old wizard passed before entering the tent. Within her voice had been a hint of hostility, and with breath that smelled just as unwelcoming to one's senses.

"Hm," the old wizard would move forwards towards the cushion he had been previously gestured towards, with each of his steps came the tap of his wooden staff against the wood-board floor. He took himself a seat having to rely on his staff to help push himself back into a comfortable position upon the cushion, "You had asked for my story, yes?"

"Yes, and generous am I to even allow you such opportunity." The hag responded sharply, "When the mosquitos first buzzed of a wizard within my swamps I could hardly believe it. At first thought I'd wanted nothing more than to quickly dispose of you as I have many others. However, I wondered just what kind of wizard was foolish to enter my swamps even after my announced disliking for visitors?"

The old wizard nodded, stroking his beard, "I am Xoldor, Xoldor Aleister of nowhere. I have come to you, hag, for scholarly matters. You see I have keen interest in the arcanic world and its secrets. And you, hag, as I understand, have found within your posession something that may prove a window into the world of the arcanic arts."

"Window into the arcane? I have no such thing that could possibly-" the hag's voice froze as a thought seemed to come to her, "That is unless, possibly, you're here for it." The hag would lean forwards her glassy and almost lifeless pale eyes narrowing down upon Xoldor's visage, "If it is as you say it is then why should I allow you to even peer into it? Give me good reason I should not simply kill you here and now; at least that way I gain two things: a window into the arcane, and ingredients for my concotions."

"Do not be so hasty, hag," Xoldor would pull a smoking pipe from his robe, placing into it some leaf before lighting it with a flame upon his finger tip taking a puff before he would further speak, "I doubt you'd manage to so much as get it to glow. I, on the other hand, contain within my mind knowledge that could yet open this window I speak of, if given the chance. So why don't we make a deal?"

"A deal?" The old hag would cackle, leaning back her gaze retreating as she seemed to think for a moment, "Very well! How about this?! I will allow you to perform whatever you must to appraise it and if possible open a window at which point you too would share with me the view. However, should you fail to do so, you will return it to me and forfeit your mind to me so that I may pluck from it whatever I wish." The hag spoke with a crooked smile as she rubbed her hands together excitement in her voice.

"I can agree to such terms, if I may add one more thing," Xoldor took a puff from his pipe, "You cannot act in anyway to interfere or sabotage my studies; not you or anything else purposely. If such an agreement is broken then you will be forced to let me go with it in my possession."

"Hm," The hag gave Xoldor's proposal thought for a moment, frowning as she responded, "Very well, I can agree to these terms. Shall we write up a contract?"

"Yes, a contract shall do finely," Xoldor nodded with a smile, taking a final puff from his pipe before ashing it out and slipping it back away within its place inside his robe.