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 elf did not take a seat. Instead, he stood to the side and in the doorframe, expecting for more to be at display. Although when silence merely filled up the room, he uttered a sarcastic; "I have been chasing a butterfly and I have since lost it. I got insider information that said butterfly could possibly be here; though my feud has been going on for seven years." The man merely deadpanned afterwards, finding this less amusing than some.
