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?))
"Oh, I just, uh…" the character stutters, tensing up. She eyes the crone, then backs outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until she joins the old crone in the tent and sits on the cushion offered to her. "Ive been traveling far and wide in search of my elven family...", her eyes drift to the side, considering whether or not she could continue. She looks back up to the crone now sitting in front of her and studies her face as she continues with her story. "When I was a little girl our entire village was purged by our greatest enemies. The whole village went up in flames...", she begins to fidget with her fingers a little bit, "... Im not sure where they all ran to but I have this feeling inside me that some of them are still alive". She leans in closer to the crone and darts an eye back to the entrance of the tent, as if she were telling a secret, she whispers, "We arent any ordinary elves, or myself at least. Most of us have a special connection to some thing specific... for example, ive always loved animals and that love has been advanced into an understanding. Others have greater stealth, some even have a connection to the ocean... the list goes on". She sits back and relaxes slightly. "I appreciate you inviting me into your tent and town but I really must get going before night fall." She rises and gives a nod to the crone before leaving the tent.
