HallowsEved

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.”

((How do you respond?))

"A... a STORY?" He beams, hastily sitting down upon the nearest dry spot, and slips out the leather-bound book tucked safely under his cloak. Stuck on his favorite word, Hymnal animately holds it up high as his Holy Grail of lore and legends, and flips onto one of his favorite stories just til until it registers that she asked for *his* story. The pages slam shut as he lowers it to show the elf's already disgruntled and peeved expression. "*me*" he repeats. "You want *my* story? Why must you ask about my story when I have so many more interesting tales to tell?" He asked, a defensive note in his tone. However, it only takes a beat for him to fake a sigh and stand up again, turning away slightly with dramatic flair. "Very well, Madame, if you truly recognize me-the great and *humble* Hymnal!- then... it is only fair I share the retelling of my story..." Hymnal turns towards her again, his hand outstretched to the heavens, his other pulling out his lute (or any instrument really) at the ready "..THROUGH SONG!"

*AHEM*

"From towers tall of crystal glass,
Where centuries still in silence pass,
Hymnal dwelled in thought alone,
a poet bound by arcane throne.

He wrote of love, of fire, and war,
Yet never stepped beyond his door.
A thousand years of ink and spell-
But not a tale he knew too well

So Farewell halls of starlit gold,
Your flawless grace has grown too cold.
With ink and fire, I roam the land,
Quill in heart and lute in hand.
No longer caged by elven law,
I seek the flawed, the fierce, the raw

He felt the air beyond the wards,
and left behind the scholar-lords.
Through mortal lands and haunted skies,
He chased the truth that magic hides.

Now tales he tells are torn and true,
Of hearts betrayed and skies turned blue.
No longer perfect- still, they shine,
for every bleeding word is mine!

So Farewell, halls of starlit gold,
I've found more life in stories bold.
With ink and fire, I roam the land,
Quill in heart and Lute in hand. 
A high elf born of book and lore,
Now lives for tales worth fighting for."

He then, of course, bows deeply before looking up expecting applause

"yes yes, I know I'm amazing"

(OOC, I understand that I cannot roleplay with items I do not have on my person; a book and quill would be required for this scene. I acknowledge this, as it is stated in the rules)

Edit Part 1:Like the  book and quill, I acknowledge my character would need an instrument (lute or otherwise) to perform what was stated in the rp

Edit Part 2: I've added the actual *song* he would sing to the witch, I'm quite proud of it. Even so, he does have a simple backstory.
He is an author, and has been writing them for a very long time in seclusion (about two decades). But he has run out of writing material! So he is determined to leave his home to find stories, the grittier or more interesting (to him as a high elf) the better. In this scenario, he likely came to the swamp town VOLUNTEERILY with a smile on his face despite the uncomfortable dampness.