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?))
Lirael eases onto the cushion with a cautious smile, her green eyes scanning her face while keeping one hand near her bow—just in case. She brushes a blonde braid back, voice warm but still steady. "Thanks for the seat... Expecting me, were you?" She hums but then settles in, sharing openly yet watchful. "I'm Lirael, a Mali'ame from Elvenesse's southern woods. Been a tree-farmer my whole life—nurturing the groves, helping roots to thrive here, in the wild. It's peaceful work, close to nature's heart, but lately I've felt this pull... a yearning for adventure, you know? To wander beyond the trees and share my people's stories with the world. The forests taught me kindness and strength, but I want to see more. That's why I'm here." She leans forward. "So... what do you know about me that the winds haven't shared yet?"
