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?)) A moment of pause, caught by surprise, the younger elf took a step back as he was addressed. After said moment, he answered her imploring "Me? If you expected me perhaps.. you can help?" He stopped again, and after realizing she waited for an answer, he continued, "Very well then, I am Arvel Tou, and I journey to the lands of Rah'munian in search of help. My clan has been lost to me, burned to the ground, and I.. need to find help for something." He froze, worry crossing his face at the risk of over sharing. And yet, upon realizing the hag remained quite content to continue to listen, he relented more from his chest. "I.. do not understand how it occurred, my memory remains rather faint on the matter. When... when my family was lost.." He found himself stopping again, this time going quiet as melancholy creeped into his voice. He seemed hesitant to delve into such things, and yet, they would come forth by another's will.
He stared off blankly, eventually answering, though he didn't correct his gaze to face the hag, "My sister, Ivala, I can still hear her in my head. Like she is still there.. but.. I don't understand how? I was hoping to find help in the lands of Rah'munian to try and understand what is happening with her in my head."
After he took a step back to compose himself, he quietly asked "Could you point me on the right path?" And as soon as he asked, the old hag raised one decrepit hand, pointing Arvel Tou forward down that path, to continue his journey.
