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.”
Nephethys pushes his glasses back up onto his face, his curious eyes examining the woman. "You've been expecting me?" He says, caught off guard. "I, erm. Do I know you?" He shuffles his feet, staring at the ground. Nephethys glances around the old tent, looking for some way out of this overwhelmingly awkward conversation. Upon seeing no clear escape, he sighs and turns back to the woman. "Well, where do I begin?" He pondered and muttered to himself for a moment before speaking up. "Well, I'm not all the special, to be honest. I grew up near Nevaehlen but I never entered the city or any towns of that sort. My away had a nice little garden, so while he was watering the plants I read books on botany. It was a nice life." He frowned. "My father passed away from some sort of illness. That's why I want to be a doctor, so nobody else has to lose their loved ones. I was making my way to Nevaehlen, actually. I'm hoping to study there."
