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.”
The Wood Elven woman steps lightly into the tent, her gaze briefly scanning the dimly lit surroundings, her face a mix of curiosity and wariness. Her cloak rustles softly as she lowers herself onto the cushion, her long fingers tracing the edges of the fabric as she settles into place.
Her voice is soft, yet carries the quiet strength of the forest she hails from, as she speaks with an air of calm contemplation.
"I have traveled far from the heart of the woods... the trees call to me, but their whispers grow faint. The balance of the wild is shifting, and with it, the shadows seem to deepen in places where they once held no sway. I was guided here, though I do not yet know why. The land itself feels... uneasy, as though something stirs beneath the surface, something old and forgotten."
She tilts her head slightly, her eyes meeting the hag’s with an intense, almost otherworldly gaze.
"I did not expect such a place, but perhaps it is no coincidence. The creatures of the swamp have been restless, and the scent of decay lingers in the air—something taints the waters here. I seek answers. You knew I would come. I wonder, wise one, what you know of these dark happenings, and whether my presence here will aid in unraveling the webs that have ensnared this place."
Her voice softens again, and her eyes shift momentarily toward the shadows within the tent, as if sensing something more beneath the surface of the old woman's words.
"Tell me, hag, what is it that you see in me?"
