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.”
"Thank you. My! This is a nice place to rest. I've been traveling all day." She answered, taking in her surroundings. The woman continued to stare at Voria, her eyes darting between the girl and the rest of the tent.
"Don't think you can get away with staying here for free. As I said, I have been expecting you. Tell me about yourself." She said sternly. Voria gulped.
"D-do you mean everything? Or like-" The old woman stared harder. "Alright. Where to begin? I'm Voria, a wood elf. Well, I guess my appearance throws that off. I get that a lot. My father was a human, for which that's all I know. My mother told me he was an adventurer stopping for the night in town and left in the morning before she knew I was conceived. I was raised fully as a wood elf, so that's what I am. She's a kind woman who, for most of my childhood, worked simply as a tender to the local bar. When I was twelve, she finally achieved her dream of owning a flower garden. Sometimes, we would travel together to sell from stalls at festivals across many kingdoms. My papa would always help load up the chests." She paused.
"Oh! My Papa Tuke! Short for Tukrin. He was a carpenter. He helped make the flower beds and signs of the garden and even fixed some of the rundown stalls we got. He taught me how to hunt to help provide at a young age. I guess that's why I feel so free in the forest alone. I have this weird desire to be part of a community full of diversity and harmony, yet I feel one with the earth when my toes touch the dirt and my hands grip the trees. Papa Tuke always joked it was my human brain and elf heart competing. Heh, I guess I don't entirely know what to do with that. I don't know what to do in general. I want adventure!" Voria chuckled lightly to myself, but it grew to a full laugh.
"But I have NO idea what that is! Is it war? Love? Travel? Geopolitical domination?" She shook my head and looked away. "Even if adventure did call, I'm not prepared. I don't have any training with a sword or know how to use magic. I have been trying to receive training, but I have no idea where to look. I guess I could ask Harthedir? He's a hunter that sells in the marketplace. We run into each other occasionally while hunting. I have a feeling he knows a bit about combat." The old lady smirked. Voria's cheeks start burning. "Wh-not that um. I never- we couldn't. Uhh."
"Continue, dear." She urged. Voria gulped harder than before and felt it catch in her throat. A loud cough escaped her mouth as she flipped around to avoid the splatter of spit from getting on the old lady.
"Sorry."
"Why are you here?" She asked.
"Right. Papa Tuke died a week ago. I've traveled there for the services and have been wandering for a while now. He left me his bow. I want to honor his legacy and achieve my dreams, but I have no idea how to do it." She finished, not entirely sure why she said all of that. She could've just gone somewhere else to sit. Another tent, a tavern, a tree stump, and yet she chose this and complied. The old woman gave Voria a hot drink. Once she was done with the earthy beverage, Voria left. She'd learnt nothing through that, and yet she felt renewed.
Recommended Comments