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?))
Lyluth nodded her head and took the seat offered by the hag, her dress damp from the swamp air. As she settled onto the cushion, her attention steered away from the hag’s gaze and instead focused on the suspended candlelight and ragged canvas walls, inclined to let the woman speak first. She then shifted her attention back towards the hag, before answering in a polite but stoic tone.
“I suppose, since you were expecting me, I have no choice but to oblige.” She paused for a second, as if measuring how much of herself was worth sharing with the hag. “I was born and raised by my mother in a city of humans along the trade routes. She was a human commoner that came from a merchant-adjacent household, which meant that the money we had was scarce, and we learned to make do with what little we had. My father, however… I unfortunately know very little about. All that I can tell you is that he was an elf, specifically of the High Elven lineage, and he had left us right before I was born, I assume because my existence was an inconvenience to him. He never once tried to approach us, not one bit, so I stopped expecting anything from him long ago.”
Her hands folded together as she continued, her expression remaining eerily composed. “My mother would often tell me growing up how the world would be unkind to a child like me, so I lived the majority of my life hidden away. As a youth, most of my time was spent indoors, only leaving when my mother would allow me to. For the short moments I did spend outside, I was strictly told to always wear some form of hood over myself, as a way to keep my ears concealed, and to take up as little space as possible when walking amongst other people. In that way, I became invisible to the rest of society.”
A brief silence fell between them as Lyluth sifted through the back of her mind, recalling past memories of her childhood she had tucked away, before speaking again. “As I matured, I only heard even more stories, ones relating to the importance of purity and bloodlines, and how such things could determine if a person was worthy of respect or not. I realise now, after so many years, that perhaps the stories were indeed true. That is why now, at eighteen, I’ve left the city. Not because I plan to go somewhere, but because I simply refuse to keep hiding.” The calm in her demeanour finally gave way, as a slow smirk suddenly took its place. “You asked for my story,” she continued, her voice no longer passive. “Now I think it’s time that you finally tell me yours, don’t you think?”
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