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?))
Estelion falters for just a moment. "Thank you, my good lady." He sends the old crone a hesitant nod, taking in the tattered tent carefully. Taking a seat, his eerie silver eyes meet the woman's. "If you have been expecting me, madam, then you must know why I am here." A low, creaking breeze fills the quiet space, the Elf's starlight hair draped heavily down his back. A smile cracks his lips, mostly crooked but charming in its own way. Brandishing his hands, his once midnight velvet skin was now marred with star-like splotches, twinkling in the shifting shadows. "I seek to understand, and nurture, this peculiar power I happened upon."
His silk-woven eyes gleamed brightly, wearing his moondrop brow like a crown. "You will help me, won't you, my good lady?"
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