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.”
Asmond is perplexed by the old hag, but is interested enough by peculiar people such as these to entertain their conversations. "My story? Well if a charming lady such as yourself is asking, I believe I have the time for a tale or two." He sits down in a rather informal way, one leg bent towards the sky, the other is laying flat on the floor. "I've come and gone from many places in search of a proper place to settle down and make my own with my sister. You see, we're rather attached by the hip as you might say." He smiles as if reminiscing the many good times he is alluding to. "We're always willing to work together to earn what we've always desired, but nothing ever seems to work for us." Keeping his wording as vague as he has been since the beginning of his story, he finally pauses to reconsider why he is spending his time in such a place as this. "And speaking of the devil, have you seen my sister around these parts by chance? She's just as dashing as me, you could say. Just more... feminine? I'm sure you get the idea." He looks at the old hag inquisitively, but always ensuring a charming gesture in his smile.
