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?))
Laelon moves towards the cushion, glancing at it. "You won't attack me will you?". He tilts his head slightly. "Well, it's a long story...." He sits down on the cushion, the sword on his hip clinking on the ground and begins telling her. "I was born in a small town with an insatiable appetite for knowledge and information. At an early age I found a unique love for fire, it has this...this way of consuming freely all things in it's path.". His begins to study the hag, his green eyes piercing through her visage, scanning for threats. "I've been traveling for some time now...yet I don't think anyone but my friends know I was coming this way....
" He closes his palms, sweat dripping from his brow. "Now how did you know I was coming?".
