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?)) The sleepy wood elf would sit himself on the ground provided, Though his shoulders slumped in a tired manner his gaze lingered thoughtfully on the floating candles about the tent. With a sigh he let his thoughts drift to the subject of his situation before addressing the old women. "I hail from the colder regions of the forest, Its all I've ever known till... recently" He paused, gaze drifting firmly to the ground seeming to debate his next words with a furrowed brow. "I never got to truly explore my elven blood, nor my peoples culture. You see, miss, most my recent years have been spent under service my late parents couldn't provide. There debts to pay fell on me" He sat up from his leaning poster, squaring his shoulders and let out a heavy, slow sigh. "but I'm free now and looking for some one to tech me what I should already know, is there apothecary nearby?"
