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?))
Quincy steps carefully in the tent. Being mindful of each step he took as to not step on anything he wasn't suppose to. Upon the Hag looking at him, he stared back. Quiet, observant, and mildly curious as to what this individual knew of him. He'd tilt his head to the side, questioning quietly before moving to take a seat on the cushion. Quincy chuckled softly. "There is not much to tell sadly." Quincy paused before continuing. "I come from Kingdom of Númendil, and I am traveling to learn more about my profession in the field of Apothecary.."
He'd pause before a small smile graced his lips. "Could you perhaps point me in the right direction to continue my journey?"
