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.”
The high elf stares at the hag with wide eyes, his index finger hesitantly pointing at his chest, "Me..? You've been expecting- me?" His tone is almost condescending, not quite believing what the hag is saying. He glares down at the cushion and took a good moment staring down at it, presumably an inner conflict over whether to run away screaming or whether to do as she said. He shrugs with one shoulder and seats himself down onto the cushion, "Where to begin... Where to begin- Oh!" He perks up, his shrimp-like posture straightening out at the same time, "I grew up in a humbly sized village with my sister and my father. We don't speak of my mother, alright? Don't ask." He clears his throat, "My father was- Apologies, is, a tailor and he made me learn the art of the craft." The rambling elf abruptly falls silent and stares at the fabric of the tent behind the hag. Suddenly, he pushes himself up from the cushion and grins widely toward the hag. "I am going to take my leave," an awkward chuckle forces itself out of him, "Thank you for this very rewarding conversation. Farewell now."
