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?))
"Oh, I..." Something compels Nieven to tell her. "I wanted to see the world. See other races, experience adventures, so I ran away from home. I hope I can return as a successful adventurer and not get laughed at by the others" She says, her voice quiet and unsure and her eyes darting around the room, never quite fixating on the hag's eyes. "You see, I was made fun of for not wanting to stay there. It was boring anyway, but I want to at least see some of the world before I return to that life" Nieven sighs as she notices her rambling. "I'm sorry, I always get told I talk too much. Or to little. Funny how both is a problem for me" She laughs awkwardly.
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