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?))
Example: (delete this)
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
"My story is yet to be built. So how is it I am to tell you of my story when pen has not yet been put to paper? I come from the land, an animal amongst others different from it, yet the same. I give to the land so I may take from it with no more than I give; and keep balance where it need be. That is what my mother taught me before she passed, and I have held those truths to be certain." A bated breath escapes him, a memory clearly coming to the forefront of him mind, as he shakes it off to continue. "She told me of teachings that aid in the connectivity to the land, to better understand her. I believe I'm ready to learn now, and thus will begin my story. One day I will come and tell it to you when it is done. Look for me in the years to come and listen for my name on the wind, Teryn Honeywood, and know I'll be close behind it."
He stands, and offers a bow, before exiting the tent.
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