Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
The Halfling girl promptly straightens her shoulders, though her wary expression and the way she begins twiddling her thumbs betrays her false confidence. "My story?" she repeats. "Yes, um... I'm a root worker from Hillock. I study herbal medicines and root magick. And, um, you see, I... It's my grandmother. She taught me everything I know, and- well, she's- she's sick." She takes an unsteady breath, blinking a few times. "Really sick. I traveled all the way here on foot. My Great Uncle told me that if anyone could help heal her, it would be you."
