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?)) The woman took her time to admire all the floating candles, the only majestic about this otherwise eerie swamp. Her attention would redirect itself towards the hag at the back, flinching a bit as she addressed her. "Me?" She'd turn to glance behind her before returning her gaze to the hag. Upon seeing no one there, she parted her lips to ask, but quickly decided against it before walking over to the cushion and gracefully lowering herself, crossing her legs as she'd sit atop it, her hands gathered on her lap. "I'd assume you already know my name.. somehow. anyhow, let's start with The Caliphate. My family is very.. they respect the culture very much, though I didn't much care for it. My parents loved me to pieces, as their eldest and the only daughter. They were lovely, a bit too close-minded for my taste. Anyway, I did like the holidays, though. Menaphos was my favourite. It was one of the few times Abi would let me venture out to visit distant relatives and friends outside of the Qalasheens." She paused a bit as a soft smile grew on her face as the fond memories came to mind. "On one faithful day in Menaphos, I came to a decision. I told my parents my plan, that I wanted to venture out, be much more carefree. That I wanted to wander around, travel the continent. They didn't want to let me go, and though it hurt them, they knew they couldn't change my mind and so two years ago, I visited everyone I used to visit and said my goodbyes before I left. And here we are today."
