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?))
The newcomer into the tent would pause momentarily in the entryway of the tent, a cautious glance emanating from her narrow violet eyes. She stood there for a moment, wordless, before giving off a single nod as she stepped forward, eyes locked onto the old crone while she moved towards the older cushion. Sitting down, the candles illuminating the tent would grant a good look at her face, visibly young and naive.
She'd stay silent for a few moments, before mumbling out a "...K-Khalia..." before speaking up clearly. "I- I'm Khaliah! I'm no one special, I suppose... I was raised in a long line of people with great talents for many craft, skills, and combat- so when it turned out I'm not exactly very good at any of those, the disappointment from my elders and parents was, well..." Khaliah's words trailed off, somewhat unnerved. "...Err... I couldn't stand their scrutinizing gaze any longer... so I left." The dark elf shrugged sadly, glancing towards the tent's entrance. "...I left my family's name at the door, and went out to make a name for myself."
She'd furrow her brow, raising a hand to rub her temples. "...I found myself in the company of some less than ideal role models- uhm, highwaymen... but I left them too after a while... now I'm just... traveling, trying my best to find out something I can excel at on my own merits." She finished, glancing back at the hag, a semblance of a smile covering her previous cold expression.
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