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?)) Entered the room with his head held down, the male had his hood pulled over his face to hide his identity, and protect himself from the horrid weather the outside world harbored. He eyes the swampy town through his brows, taking in the sights while still remaining cautious of where he is situated currently. Upon entering the tent, Eoforwine eyes the old hag through the same tightened brows, his arms by his sides as he pulled the hood downwards. "Expecting me?" Eoforwine inquired, "If you insist." The male says without further discussion, as he approaches the cushion that had been gestured to him, taking a seat where he lowered his head, explaining his long-lived story.
