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?..." As Raithrel stumbled upon the hag, she looked up at her in confusion. Her stomach had knotted from the long journey she had embarked on and the words coming out of the witch's mouth only made her stomach feel sicker. "I was just passing by-- were you expecting me?" She reaches up to scratch her head, eyes clouding up with curiosity. Born amidst the lands of Almaris, in the forests near Amathea, this female high elf was rather adept at making candid conversation. She explained simply, "I wish to become a respected scholar and practitioner of magic." As the elf spoke, she adjusted her robes with a cautious regard and awaited the witch's reply eagerly.
