You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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?))
Nissekhia's brows furrowed downwards at the emphasis of 'you'. Despite her confusion, it was almost like she was entranced by the old hag, sitting down. The clanking of her light armor filled the tent, along with her resounding silence. Her lips parted to speak, yet she couldn't find the right words. She bit the inside of her cheek before slamming her hand down on the table separating the two of them. "How do you know me?" She demanded, more than questioned. "Who let you know of me?"
Her bottom lip quivered, nostrils flaring with a fiery temper that was only brewing further. It was clear.. Fear was the driving factor behind her anger. After a moment of self-reflection, she bit the inside of her cheek, fist easing up. "If you must know, I am on the run. I have made quite a few unfavorable enemies up in Norland." There was a skipped beat before her mouth opened again. "I am looking for a change, to improve myself, but I cannot with the impression I have made there." She pinched the bridge of her nose, sharp inhale and slow exhale.
"I am only scared of consequences that are sure to follow me-" Nissekhia bowed her head towards the old hag. "I apologize for my previous abrasiveness. I am just fearful. I am simply just trying to make a fresh start as a medic."
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