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?))
Aeloria glances around the tent, her face showing her slight confusion, as if unsure the hag was speaking to her. After a moment of silence, she clears her throat and makes her way to the cushion to sit. "Yes, it is me," She says slowly. "My story... Well, there is not much to tell..." Aeloria gazes about the tent, her eyes resting on the floating candles. "I'm on my way to create my story. I come from a forest faraway, a village nestled amongst the canopy. I was able to catch a ship here, hoping to paint my way across the land. I brought with me my paints and brushes, gifted by my mother. They belonged to her, once." Her eyes meet the old hag's, and she settles deeper into the cushion. "I cherish my mother, but I needed a reprieve from her inescapable presence - and they say absence makes the heart grow fonder." She sighs before continuing, "Growing up, it was only my mother and I. She never told me why I've never met my father. I don't even know if he's alive... But, I suppose it doesn't matter. I don't care to know," she says the final sentence with a certain nonchalance. "My mother, she passed her talents onto me, teaching me everything she knows about the arts. Perhaps her greatest gift to me." Her right hand runs along the burn scars going up her left arm, all of a sudden feeling as though the hag was eyeing them. "Mm, these?" She chuckles, a bit awkwardly. "I had a bit of a... run in with a group of human thieves. They robbed me of everything I had, though it wasn't much." She chuckles dryly. "I fought back, with the little strength I had, and they put me in my place. I consider myself lucky that all they did was leave me with these scars and a slight disdain for humans. Perhaps I'll learn how to handle myself during my travels." Still gentling running her fingers over the scars, feeling the texture of the marred skin, she glances through the flaps of the tent, noticing how dark it now was outside. "I believe it is time for me to move on. I hope to reach Nevaehlen within two days time. I must hurry, before my food rations run out." She stands, turning to the hag before departing with a small bow.
