_xylofondue_

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?))

Fon looks around nervously, expecting ambush "Uh... you have? Sorry, just... surprised." Fon sits down in the cushion hesitantly. "So... I'm from a small town up North. There I was known as 'the freak'. Hilarious, I know." Fon laughs awkwardly before clearing his throat. "They were never really accepting of me, being half-elf, you know. Always... throwing rocks at me or tripping me, I could go on. My father was the only one who understood me. He taught me everything I knew. How to hunt, build, mine, chop wood." Fon chuckles, before becoming somber. "I never knew my mother. My father always told me stories of her, a fierce elf warrior. I wish I could have met her." Fon coughs awkwardly. "Sorry that uh... that was kinda a downer, wasn't it? Anyways, that brings us to now, a solo act just looking for adventure." Fon leans back, a smile on his face. "Yup. Totally happy where I am. ... Totallyyy..."