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.” Amara eyes the woman up and down before slowly dropping to the cushion. She brushes her skirts off before looking. "I find it intriguing that you seem to have a clue of who I am, yet I do not know who you are, madam. I want to be out of here quick, though, so I will answer your question. I am Amara of the Benale family, a city folk who find themselves drawn to the open land and sea, yet stay in the hustle and bustle of a city." She sat up straighter, keeping eye contact with the hag as she continued, "I have just left my father and younger brother to start a journey of my own. Despite making that decision, I miss their presence greatly. For now, I hope to find a place to settle myself and seek an occupation. From there, I dream of bringing my families name up from the soil. Whatever that may mean." Amara then tilted her head in question, "does that satisfy you, madam?"
