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.”
Thomas braxley would gulp slightly, sitting down on the gestured cushion. "Well, uh, not much to explain. But I might as well as give you the full story, eh?" He'd say, chuckling softly. One quick inhale followed by a long exhale later, and he was ready.
"I... I never knew my real parents. Yes, I know, great story starter, but it's true. I was raised mostly by Wood elves, as my parents abandoned me when i was young, or so I was told. I quickly learned the ways of the Forest, using things I never thought useful upon first glance to my advantage." He'd smile softly, remembering his time with those he calls family and friends. "Though, being a Human, there was always an urge, or a desire, to be among my kind. I may have been raised by Elves, but I'm as much of a Human as anyone. So, now that I'm 21 years of age, I've decided to start my travels, and learn about thew world around me."
Tom would smile to the old woman, offering her some water from his waterskin. "A drink, perhaps?"
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