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?))
Vanera tensed up under the pressure of presentation brought on by the old hag, having only been looking for somewhere to take shelter for the night. After a moment, she hesitantly approached the woman and kneeled onto the cushion presented to her. “I’m merely a traveler.. looking for a place to call my own. A sense of belonging ever since I left my home in Valfleur..” Vanera spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. She pressed on. “You say that you’ve been expecting me.. you must say that to all passers by.. for I am nothing to be heard of in whispers.” Vanera said seriously, as if conversating with herself, making sense of the revelation. Or, at least making sense to her. "My story is not one to be remembered for how mundane it is compared to other stories I have heard around these parts. I was simply born and raised in Valfleur by my Pa and Ma. I soon grew tired of it and on a fort night in summer I gathered a few things and left." As Vanera spoke more she soon was overcome with sadness, pulling her handkerchief out to wipe her tears before continuing. "I want to explore the other lands and experience adventure the world has to offer and make a name for myself.."
Recommended Comments