ViewerDiscretion_

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.” Edwin peers down at the cushion with sharp eyes as he begins to speak. "I appreciate you meeting me," he manages to feign gratitude, but remains standing, though uncomfortably hunched. "I've been travelling from Galta and, quite frankly, I expected... more of this place." Edwin's gaze crawls from the seat to the crone before him, studying her expression; he holds his gaze on her face for a while before continuing to speak. "You'll already know that I seek to reunite with some family I have on the continent. I've made it no secret in our correspondence thus far, that I intend to make a name for myself alongside my kin," he begins to move towards the cushion, taking a seat and sighing heavily before facing the woman again. "My family was prominent in Galta, though now none are left. The last of us, my father, died some months ago and what pennies he left me with were sufficient only for my voyage here." Edwin looks down at his muddy boots, then to the tent's flap door. The candlelight dances in his eyes as they turn back to meet the woman's own. "I have nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and the will to make something of myself."