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?))
Kieran sits on the floor, next to the cushion instead of on top of it, picking it up to inspect it. It was as if the boy didn't know what a cushion was supposed to be used for. "I do not understand, how do you know of me?" Kieran puts the cushion down on the floor next to him again, patting it gently. "I am a mere elf from the forest, I have lived their alone my entire life. I do not understand human customs, I do not know how I am supposed to react or interact with others."
He fiddled with his hair. "I am here, on a mission to learn to live and interact with others of both my kind and other races. I wish to roam, to speak with those less spoken to. Tell me, what, pray tell, is this soft item next to me? I must bring it to others to show them." He gestured towards the cushion again, tipping his head.
