aaronjer

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?))

It took days walking through all the scum and filth of the forest floor for some inkling to clue a frail woman into what happened. That place where she clawed herself out of the dirt, it felt haunted. Nameless upright stones, twisted and shoved in-between roots and overgrown with tangles of bramble and moss. All thoughts after waking just led back to..."Claw your way out." Why here, Why wake up here. Underground of all places.

Curiously pulled you into the dingy, off smelling town. So many questions. And finally someone to answer them when the voice of the old hag startled Grimhilde. Convincing her to pull away from her glare at a candle, and sit. Gladly sat in the cushion pointed out. Ready to spill every trifling happening since waking up. When her answer is nothing but a hiccup. Its been a long time since she'd spoken, Perhaps she should have thought aloud.

Though registering what the old hag instructed you to do, a puzzled look pulls at Grimhilde's face. Story? No, that would be impossible. For starters she didn't even know who she was. The only semblance of an identity pieced together was from the fading writing on the stone behind the dirt mound she climbed out of.

"I can't..." Is all that managed crank out of tired vocal chords. Choked and raspy.

In reality, Grimhilde, Who could be akin to a walking skeleton. Had been buried alive not to long ago.

Born a bastard, misbegotten child of an unmarried heartlander. Whom was shunned from her family and in turn her child with her, Grimhilde. Grimhilde's father was a dark elf. She was a hybrid. No one knows what happened to her father, he disappeared in the chaos of the life of her mother falling apart. On the streets and treated like trash as a child. She was forced to do anything to get by scraping up and pickpocketing anything she could sell. And taking up the odd jobs nobody else would do. During her teen years she moved on from such things to begging.

After the dead of her mother, Grimhilde was left with nothing. Having to sell everything. Ripped off, she was left broke. Forced to leave her home town in Haense. and for a few years after that she spent her time exploring the world with nothing but the clothes on her back and the change in her pocket. Recently, She was caught in an accident out at sea during a journey from Vortice to Balian. Grimhilde had paid for a spot on a ship across sea to a new place. A storm had thrown her overboard in into a patch of sharp rocks. leaving her critically injured when pulled back aboard. Her Injuries were of course healed but slipping into a coma was inevitable. Pronounced dead and buried. The injury and subsequent coma were the root cause of her amnesia after digging her way out of her grave.