docHP

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.”

((How do you respond?))

"Hello witch of the swamp. I'm glad to have formally made your acquaintance. I must say it's not everyday I get to meet such an esteemed figure. Would you be okay with me writing notes about our conversation here?" He asks inquiring permission to transcribe their conversation. "You see, I'm of a scholarly sort. A researcher and teller of tales. I like to write stories about the people I meet and the lands I visit. Would you care telling me your story instead?" He gives her a warm smile and pulls out a journal, beginning to transcribe her origin and tales of her broken home, how her father forced her to marry to a man she did not love, how she ran to the swamps to escape her fate, and how she nearly met her demise before another witch saved her and taught her the ways of witchcraft.

The crickets chirp and fireflies begin to dance throughout the night as he begins to tell her now of his own tales. Of people and beasts, of loss and love. "There was once a beautiful halfling whom the town adored. Their beauty was so great that many knights came to their humble village in search of her, wishing to court her they would slay beasts and showcase their heroic deeds. None passed her tests and her hand remained untouched." He said, looking to the hag to see if it was paying attention to his story. While he may be a researcher of history and magic, what good is the knowledge if he cannot give it to others. He considers a selfish scholar to be no scholar at all.
 

"One day, one of her halfling brethren, a shy one with a kind heart, timid in his stature but bold in his heart, asked her directly, 'What makes your heart flutter? What makes your eyes shimmer in adoration? What can I do to earn your heart?', and she turned to him and gave him the most beautiful smile. 'The acts so valiant and heroic and true, all of it is for themselves. Their deeds only used to increase their fame throughout the lands. I seek the kindness and contentment of the hearth. A roaring fire will overtake a humble home, but a constant warm flame will ensure that its heat will nourish those around it and provide comfort for the home.' He was listening eagerly now, nodding along to her words..." He continued to tell his tale positively beaming at the sight of the hag who was enraptured by his story, much like the halfling to his beautiful counterpart. 

"The beautiful halfling pressed her hand to his cheek, and it felt as if all the world had melted away, 'I have seen the way you tend to your garden, how you treat each passerby, how you give your time to those who need an ear or helping hand. I have seen you tell no other of these deeds and you have been given no recognition for them. I am here to tell you that your actions have warmed my heart. And I would gladly give it to you.' The beautiful halfling eagerly awaited his response, but no response came. Instead the enraptured halfling placed his hand on hers and slowly moved it from his cheek. 'Aye, those do be the actions of a kinder and gentler soul, but I don't do those things to impress you or win your heart. I feel unworthy of your love until I've done something amazing and grand!' The beautiful halfling chuckled and said 'To be kind in this cruel world is more amazing than slaying a hundred beasts. It takes a strong man to swing a sword. But it takes a strong soul to give himself without expecting anything in return.' He blushed then and spoke aloud 'S-So you would be okay being with a gentle and quiet man, who leaves no trail of glory behind him?' She nodded 'At least I won't have to worry about you dying to the wild beasts of the forests.' He chuckled and laughed and held her hand in his 'Aye, the only beasts I fight are the wild rabbits who are after my crops' - 'Well, perhaps a well-placed trap could slay them... I have been hungry for a rabbit stew' And with that they walked down the brick and gravel road hand in hand." He closed his journal and looked up, the hag with a strange oily substance coming from its eyes. "Are you alright?" The hag nodded, moved by the story.