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?)) Midnarys gently pulls the hood of her dark robe off her head, revealing her stoic expression. "I thought I might like to stand on some solid ground." She sits upon the cushion, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. "Growing up among the Val'athri was fun for me as a child. Sailing, hunting foraging, and so on." She sighs, briefly averting her gaze.
"But as I've come of age I'm beginning to doubt the nomadic lifestyle is one that I really want. I feel like there's something inside of me that's trying to..." Midnarys places her hand over her heart and then spreads her fingers to gesture a sort of 'exploding" motion. "... Wake up. There's something deep within me that is driving me away from the sea and towards the mysteries that the land holds. And I am determined to find out what it is."
