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.”
Arinbiǫrn look at the old hag, his hazel eyes sliding down to meet with hers, Giving a slight momentary pause. Once his brain has computed, he lead a respond with a clear tone. "Ea guess I can hold ye ear, ladie." He walks to the cushion and place his butt onto the soft seat, looking at the hag with a soft smile, the smile almost fit for a child and not a grown man. "Believe it or nyot, It has all started when Ea was a weed little laddie, me father thought Ea was too similar to me mother so he put me to work!"
