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…” Rohsa squints at the hag, stepping forward despite her better judgment. “I don’t- I’m not sure what you mean. What were you expecting me for…?” Biting her tongue, the dark elf stood next to the cushion with a hint of hesitation within her thin frame. "You must've come here for some reason, no?" The woman spat as the beginnings of irritation were settling in upon her visage. Lips thinning, her arms crossed as she stared right at Rohsa. The Mali'ker allowed a nervous smile to curl upon her lips, "I was just stopping by for the night," she explained with a quiet voice, hands clasping loosely in front of her. "I'm hoping to get to Nora'sath. It's the home of my kin, I think, right?"
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