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, I do not know where I am..." I look around dazed, confused as to why I am in a dim town. I struggle to breath, as the dampness in the air compresses my chest. "You have been expecting me?" I reply unsure of what this old hag is talking about. "I am a wood elf, raised deep within the forests of Fangorn. I am the oldest of three siblings; Hurdor and Phinlo my brothers, and sister Arlae. I am the son of Harmil and Galladir the sovereign lord's of the forest city I was born. I was on a journey to the see more of the world when I stumbled into a dark pit, and landed here. I pride myself in being a nimble, meek, and glorious hunter. I am familiar with roaming through the forest looking for food and fending off many of the perils within. My desire in life is to make a great name for myself and find true purpose within the world. This place seems oddly familiar as if it were something in my dreams. I often dream of places I would one day go... maybe this is it."
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