Amedea

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?)) I pause at the tent's entrance, my nose wrinkling ever so slightly at the pervasive scent of decay...a stark contrast to the usual smell I am used to back at Haelun'or's, my homeland. "Expecting me?" I said, my voice measured and clear despite the unsettling nature of this encounter, for a Mali'aheral does not show weakness before lesser beings, even those who dabble in the obscure arts. I lower myself onto the cushion with practiced grace, delicate and graceful movements, arranging my cloak carefully to avoid the questionable cleanliness of this place, and meet the hag's gaze with eyes the color of pale morning frost. "I am Amedea of the Mali'aheral, born within the blessed walls of Haelun'or," I begin, "I have journeyed far from the gleaming towers of my people, seeking knowledge that even our vast libraries cannot provide knowledge of the world beyond our silver gates, though it pains me to traverse such... primitive settlements." My fingers trace the edge of my travel pack as I continue, "My elders believe that understanding the lesser races and their ways, however distasteful, serves the greater purpose of preserving Mali'aheral superiority and ensuring our bloodline remains untainted by ignorance as much as by impure unions." I tilt my head slightly, studying the crone with curiosity, "Though I confess, your claim of expecting my arrival intrigues me, logic dictates there must be a rational explanation, and I would hear it once I have satisfied your request for my tale."

I pause at the tent's entrance, my nose wrinkling ever so slightly at the pervasive scent of decay...a stark contrast to the usual smell I am used to back at Haelun'or's, my homeland. "Expecting me?" I said, my voice measured and clear despite the unsettling nature of this encounter, for a Mali'aheral does not show weakness before lesser beings, even those who dabble in the obscure arts. I lower myself onto the cushion with practiced grace, delicate and graceful movements, arranging my cloak carefully to avoid the questionable cleanliness of this place, and meet the hag's gaze with eyes the color of pale morning frost. "I am Amedea of the Mali'aheral, born within the blessed walls of Haelun'or," I begin, "I have journeyed far from the gleaming towers of my people, seeking knowledge that even our vast libraries cannot provide knowledge of the world beyond our silver gates, though it pains me to traverse such... primitive settlements." My fingers trace the edge of my travel pack as I continue, "My elders believe that understanding the lesser races and their ways, however distasteful, serves the greater purpose of preserving Mali'aheral superiority and ensuring our bloodline remains untainted by ignorance as much as by impure unions." I tilt my head slightly, studying the crone with curiosity, "Though I confess, your claim of expecting my arrival intrigues me, logic dictates there must be a rational explanation, and I would hear it once I have satisfied your request for my tale."