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?))
looks at her "would you believe if I told you, young woman, u don't want to hear it.." "I am a elf denied by my people and my father was a hunter and my mother was a farmer, we were hunted down and my parents killed in Gondor seeking to save place, being dark elves we were hunted down and chased, our home was once in Harad and soon we were kicked out and now I will claim back the lands in name of dark elves"
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