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.”
Surprised by the woman, Anduin starts to back away.
The woman glares at him, "Sit." Once again gesturing to the cushion.
Anduin complies, taking a seat on the cushion, staring at the floor.
"There's not much to tell, really. I'm just a traveller." Anduin looks toward the woman, then around the tent, and back to the woman. "I don't much mind being out of the weather, though.. I'm from a town not far from here. From the looks of things, the people here don't seem to be faring much better than I was. My parents? I didn't know them, really. my mother was a witch, or that's what people would call her at least, when they thought I couldn't hear them. I was raised by my grandfather, who wouldn't tell me much. As for why i'm here? He says it's time I fend for myself. I didn't see much point sticking around there, so I left. That brings me to this tent."
