juliaINC

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?)) Ingrid's body tenses up, but she slowly steps deeper into the tent, and sits down. "Well hey, if you haven't got anything better to do... My father was never up to any good, my Heartlander mother ran off with some elve nobody knows where, so my uncle basically raised me. My father and him were Highlanders. We lived by the mountains, and we used to explore them a lot. Uncle would show me all kinds of berries, tell me which were edible, show me how to make fire. He taught me everything I know. Sometimes I would get tired of those lessons and run off to chase after a squirell or a boy or something" Ingrid shrugs, "Haven't seen him a long time since I left, but the old man was getting rusty anyways." She says with a smile.