Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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.”
Velarith sat down on the cushion gracefully, her glowing white eyes fixated on the hag in front of her. As she began to speak, her voice would be heard very low: "My story?" Her facial expression would be consumed with a serious one as she began to sum up her tale. "It begins under an obsidian sky, in a land where secrets are as deep as the roots of the ancient trees. I was born in a clan that viewed me as a blessing and a curse, as my birth was tied into an eclipse that painted the heavens violet." She pauses, pulling her hands onto her lap to rest. "Therefore I was raised in the shadows of tradition, bound to rituals that tied to my spirit but whispered of power. My clan was betrayed from within, and in the flames of it, I was cast out. A sigh left her lips; afterwards, her voice turned cold. "Now I start my own journey, and it brought me here." Velarith's body stiffened; her violet eyes would glare at the hag before her. "Now tell me hag—why were you expecting me?"
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