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  1. Willowisp


    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?)) Unaware of the woman's presence, Iarina stood captivated by the dilapidated scene, illuminated solely by flickering candlelight. Her nose wrinkled instinctively, as if hoping to shield her from the pervasive odor of petrichor that squished beneath each cautious step. The woman's words would startle her, causing her head to snap around, eyes squinting in an attempt to discern the figure hidden amidst the shadows. "I... I didn't mean to intrude," she began hesitantly, gesturing to the shared space with a nervous hand. "I should probably be going," Iarina stammered, starting to turn on her heel. However, her steps faltered as she reached the threshold. Her attention gravitated back to the enigmatic woman. "Who am I to you?" She murmured in a near whisper, curiosity taking hold of her. Silence hung heavily in the enclosed space, compelling Iarina to draw nearer to the cushion laid out for her. She spoke softly, "I am Iarina, hailing from the Silver City. I must admit, I don't recognize you; perhaps my mother's face is the one you remember, not mine. I've spent my years combing the forest floors for herbs mentioned in ancient, yet forgotten texts. A profession that has not garnered much attention. My mother, Seraphina Aeverie, was a renowned woman from Haelun'or, and she crossed far more paths than I have." Her words trailed off as the realization of her situation once again took hold. She hesitated before asking, "And who, may I ask, are you once more?"
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