Keely arrives in a swampy, dim town. As he looks around, his gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. He ducks into a tattered tent, illuminated by candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head.
"What brings you into this dingy town?" She asks, then pausing to study Keely's face. "Ah, it's you. I've been expecting you." She gestures to a cushion. "Sit. Tell me your story."
"I'm looking for information." Keely responds, taking a seat across from the crone. "My name is Azriel Keel Vanni. You can call me Keely. There's a village more than a week's ride up north - I'm a member of its guard. My captain sent me here to ascertain the whereabouts of a raider group, or whoever can lead me to one of their members. I intend to join up with the guard of this region's capital city and seek out these criminals by any means necessary. Can you point me in the right direction?"
