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.”
As Amara takes a seat she stares at the woman. Deep in thought she begins by introducing herself. "My name is Amara Dokkalfar ma'am. My family were farmers, we mainly grew wheat, sweet potatoes and limited produce along with herbs for my grandmother, Kasia, who worked with the town's alchemists. My mother was Awoyrn, and my father's name was Aranel. My parents taught me everything I know when it comes to plants and how to farm. We had a market stall and every Saturday we'd stock our produce to survive each week." She takes a small pause. "We lived a peaceful life in the forest, hardly any conflict came to our small town."
"I started traveling shortly after my 13th birthday when human bandits raided and set our farm and town ablaze on a conquest. One of the alchemist of our town, Ruven, ran through looking for survivors and unfortunately it was just him and I. I've traveled to different lands, across oceans, plains, and giant jungle forests but nothing felt of home. I spent eleven years traveling with Ruven up until we were separated during a storm on the sea six months ago. I ended up waking up along the coast here.. wherever here is. I'm trying to just find a means to survive. Maybe settle down, go to an academy or just live a peaceful farming life." She looks down at the floor then back up to the elderly woman, "I've lived a boring life in the beginning I just wish to return to that."
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