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?))
With one hand on her sheathed sword, she slowly approached before looking quickly at the cushion. "Fine, if you must know, then I will tell you. But just you." With her hand still on her weapon, she carefully approaches the cushion and takes her hand off the sword and takes a seat. "My name is Zara Nightshade, as you are already aware." Her words cease suddenly as she gauges the reaction of the crone sitting before her, and continues anyway, "I was born in the forest which is quite unusual for my kind, but certainly not unheard of." Every heard she speaks is as sharp and as narrow as the sword she carries so closely to her fingertips, and her words ice-cold and almost lacking of emotion. "I've always had a hard time making friends growing up, but I did not let that deter me from my training, I've always eben adept with a sword." As she says that, she unsheathes her sword slightly and the glimmer shines with the flickering of the light within the tattered tent. "I guess I found it easier to," she smiles almost sadly, "hit first, talk later." She looks up from her sword and gives a half-smile, "You never know who to trust in these times. I couldn't even trust my own family, I suppose they only had me for clout, I'm not really sure and I don't really care."
Her brow furrows as she uses a single finger to push the blade back into its firm leather socket. "My whole life I've been running from others or fighting in fear, but not anymore, I don't want to be that person anymore. I know that I might die," she sighs deeply, "but I know that my destiny is out there, somewhere." She looks down at the treck of dirt that followed her in and brushes it away. "I'm sure of it." As if looking into her flickering eyes, she doesn't seem certain and she almost seems nervous.
As she stares into the eyes of the hag, she nods with conviction and stands up and makes haste for the entrance. And as quickly as she entered, she left once more.
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