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?))
Taranath would unbuckle his sword belt, setting it down beside him, and then would sit where she gestured.
"I come from Celia'nor, back before it was a bustling township. Back then it was still just a Diraar outpost. I left when members of our family were in distress and needed my help." Taranath would explain.
The old hag would tilt her head in a form of endearment, and he would continue,
"I was too late. By the time I got to the chaos unfolding at the besieged village my uncle and auntie were residing, the homes were set alight, and they were no where to be seen."
Taranath would have a frown on his face as he shares this, continuing, "I looked for months around the surrounding area to no avail of their whereabouts. I got separated from my party and travelled alone in search."
Taranath would stop for a second, hesitating, and then would conclude,
"It has taken me this long to get back in this direction after I gave up. I head now for Celia'nor. It has been very long since I have returned home, and I must go forth and reunite with what family I have left."
He would say with some heightened confidence, before lifting his sword belt back from the table, stands up in the dimly lit tent, and bids farewell to the Old Hag.
"Well then, your journey awaits you, do not let me hinder you." she would simply add as he stands up and gestures a wave goodbye.
Taranath would then swiftly make his way out of the tent in the direction of Celia'nor
