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?)) He tilts his head in confusion "I suppose it's not a bother to do so.." He looks down before speaking "I am a high elf.. from Haeulon'or. . there's not much to say about me being honest" He seems slightly nervous
"I wouldn't say I had a good childhood though.." His expression turns to s sad one "My parents weren't exactly the best kind, always strict and pushing me to do things that would be unachievable"
He looks up "I think I've rambled enough haven't I?" He glares at the old woman "Now to think of it, how is it you know me?"
