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?))
Caught off guard by this strange old woman, Elia falters, hesistating for a moment before she acquiesces and takes a seat on the cushion. "There's... not much to tell." She says earnestly, before sighing. "My people are an ancient people. They, like the trees in which we call our home, are deeply rooted in their ways. Staying amongst my kin in our woods wasn't going to educate me on the ways and peoples of the world, so I left. I hope that when I return I am able to do so with a wiser soul."
