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.”
((How do you respond?))
My given name is Feldeim, but all my "friends" call me fell. Mostly because I am a hlafling. I was always poor growing up. Being a halfling in a human's world is a curse, due to this I have grown to be some what of a pick pocket. I was raised by my father, my mother passed while I was being born. Due to this I have always gown up poor with little to eat. My father had mentioned a land where food is everywhere, and no one is ever sick or dying. Recently I have been traveling for this far way land. The reason being my father fell ill and I must find him a cure. Then I will take him there, and I will meet my mother. That is my dream.
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