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?))
"Ah, you have?" he says smacking his lips in a fecetious manner and sarcastically says, "Many people have been expecting me in many places so this better be special. By the way, Having your candles in the air like that in this tent is a fire hazard!" Hathfield takes a seat on the cushion and crosses his legs while pulling out his notebook from his vest. " I am orignally from somewhere within Númendil but, I am unsure where as all of my close family members have unfortunately perished. It happened when I was young so I do not remember much." He makes a subtle readjustment of his posture and clears his throat with a stern look on his face. "I have been on the road for quite some time and have been documenting everything I see. Ever since I was young I have taken to writing, mainly things I see while traveling and documenting anything that seems of interest." A noticable confused look appears on Hathfield's face and he starts to write in his notebook " I actually have no clue why you are asking me all of this? I also don't have your name, which is slightly more concerning to me... for documentation reasons." Hathfield takes a small flask from the left side of his vest and takes a swig making no noticable face. "I feel as though I have spoken enough for now, may we please redirect our focus to you and your story?" Hathfield leans in and eagerly puts his pen to the paper waiting to learn of this mysterious woman's story.
