lias

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?)) Yereninovica wastes no time. She sits cross-legged on the cushion, hands gripping her calves with quiet intensity. Her eyes stay locked on the old hag—unwavering, determined. She didn’t travel all this way for nothing. “I’m not here to talk about the past. I hear you have information. Something only you can give me.” The old hag’s lips curl ever so slightly at the corners. Yereninovica wastes no time. She sits cross-legged on the cushion, hands gripping her calves with quiet intensity. Her eyes stay locked on the old hag—unwavering, determined. She didn’t travel all this way for nothing. “I’m not here to talk about the past. I hear you have information. Something only you can give me.” The old hag’s lips curl ever so slightly at the corners. “Information comes with a price. And my price is knowing your story.” “I come from a city a bit far from here. My father… he always dreamed of seeing the Kingdom of Haesne. He used to say it was a beautiful place, even though he never saw it for himself.” Yereni pauses. She looks back at the hag, eyes steady, unwavering. “I’ve come to see Haesne in my father’s place.”