GODLYexe

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?))

"I am sorry to make such a fair maiden wait; the walk was rather long, and rather uneventful. I would have been here sooner if it were not for the bandits littering all the back roads. Sadly, short cuts are rather dangerous when you look the way I do," The elf explained as he moved to sit on one of the old and raggedy cushions used as seating within this cramp tent. His legs tucked themselves under himself, his hands resting ontop his thighs in a clasped position. "As you know my name is Ame'Celi- directly translating into Forest star... My parents were never ones for cushion within their words. They were rather blunt with everything. From words to knifes... However, when you are raised by a Mali'Ame (Wood elf) and a Bortu (Dwarf) words are hardly on anyones' minds... Oh yes, yes, my story- I apologize," His voice trailed off as he spoke, embarrassment crawling up his face in the form of a rather dark red blush. 

"I was raised by my mother and father rather isolated. My Mother was a rather smart and strong-willed Dwarf who seemed to be rather brash when it came to introductions. Why whenever a traveler stumbled upon our cabin she would laugh and laugh- talk and talk. Endless words were used but none were softened. My father on the other hand, a Wood elf, was a quiet man. He never seemed so keen on conversation. And of course, just like my mother was to the point with whatever he had to say. I never once believed myself to be their blood spawn; though they made sure to remind me any chance they could I was loved just as deeply. I do not know the story of how I came into their care; but I do know that they were rather happy to have their own child," As he spoke his hands would move, as if they were talking themselves. His eyes would glimmer in the faint light of the lantern- as if he himself carried the stars in them.

"I grew up loved and cared for, my mother made me toys and my father made me clothes. I learned to hunt, and I learned to gather. Though my parents tried to teach me their crafts neither tailoring or metal smithing seemed to catch my eyes. I much preferred the books I were brought from town- oh how I could sit down and read for hours by candle light... Why I was such a chronic Reader I had to have candle limits throughout the weeks or we'd end up out of wax and wicks- Mother always scolded me about that. How candles were not so cheap to buy nor easy to make. I never listened though, and as I grew up- and consumed way to many candles- I learned how to write and read without much help from my parents; and write I did. I wrote endlessly on anything I could. From scratching words into dirt to finally ink to paper- I was a natural... I left when I was old enough to leave of course. Old enough to see the world. Mother and father were and still are rather supportive of my adventures, I still send and receive letters... sorry I am rambling about the oddest details. I do not mean to, I am just excited to speak to someone," His eyes darted from the older woman to the ground rather quickly, he was staring and he knew it. He just couldn't help but be to- energetic. He wanted to say everything he could... "Ah, well... That's my story. It isn't a fancy one. No saving, no heroics. I just wish to be a writer. That is all..."