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?))
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
(Vuronia paused for a long moment, collecting her words before speaking to dispel the stutter. "My apologies, I expected this to be empty. You said you were expecting me?" Vuronia questions, pausing before her next words. She doesn't sit, nor glance at the cushion, she simply continues. "I didn't know there were tales of me farther west. If you must know, I'm searching for a quieter place to reside. I cannot stand the rash and the noisy. I'm sure you can understand my concern. I lived in a villa that was quite lovely but with the addition of letting in travelers I just-" Vuronia cuts her self off before she runs on a tangent, she swallows and continues. "You'll have to excuse me, I've come a long way. And given the..." She takes another pause, her hands that were previously resting at her side now clasped Infront of her. She continues, "Pleasant smell, it would be lovely to stay but I hate overstaying my welcome. I trust I've satisfied your curiosity, yes? Do you not get many elves this time of year?" Vuronia says, her question bordering on a tasteless remark. She blinks slowly waiting for her response before ultimately leaving the tent.)
