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.” The Old Hag continues to stare at Cailu. He begins to speak "Apologies ma'am, a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Cailu sit down in the cushion and clear his throat and begins to recount his journey. "Strange visions led me over the mountains, to arrive at this small, backwater town. Visions of a night long ago. Men, charging in to a city, with murder in their eyes. People, similar in appearance to myself, fleeing across the ocean, numbers paling in comparison to those left behind. I have no knowledge of what these visions mean, but they had been starting to affect my day to day life even more, when they came, I would black out, and seem to wander, ending in random locations not too far from where I last remembered standing. Getting worse and worse, and with the local cleric unable to sense any abnormalities, I was starting to worry greatly. Then, one day, I began to feel a pull, a pull across the mountains from my home, that eventually led me to this far away village."
