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?))
Alarion lower his hood, the dim candlelight catching the silver in his hair as he inclines his head toward the hag. Moving with unhurried grace, he settles on the worn cushion, his voice calm yet edged with curiosity.
"I am Alarion Syl'naer", he begins, "A keeper of old runes and witness to the scars left to our forests. A wanderer from the old woods carrying the weight of stories carved into bark and stone. My path leads where whispers of decay linger, and it seems that path has brought me to your door...What is it you know of me that I do not?". Alarion inclines his head slightly, settling his hand lightly to his knees, patient and unblinking, as he waits for her answer.
