Kochiia

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?))

Amrynn's eyes flickered to the dingy cushion, their nose scrunching for a brief moment before landing back on the old lady. They extended their arm behind and around their back, using their knuckles to flip the cloak up and around to the front of their body so they wouldn't sit on it. Amrynn quickly sat down as the cloak fell onto their lap, the hem of the cloak beginning to pool onto the ground. " Let me think—" Amrynn paused for a moment to think, resuming around 5 seconds later. "—Well my dad..." Amrynn looked up above when mentioning her dad, soon turning her head back down to the old lady. They worked with their father as a woodworker, family ran business. The craft the two made was decent at best, nothing terrible, nothing amazing—Just middle of the line, it got the job done. It's where you shopped if you didn't wanna break your bank on supplies you need. It was mostly their dad that did most of the work since Amrynn was still learning how to do the job just as efficiently as their dad. Though unfortunately, their dad fell sick one day, not your typical cough-out-of-commission for a few days either, his illness carried on for months, and Amrynn was forced to take the mantle since the dad was incapable of work. This took a toll on Amrynn's mental, the stress of needing to be up to par with their dads work, as well as needing to gain enough money from their below decent at best woodworking skills to pay for medicine, was simply too much—And as a result, the quality of the woodmaking decreased a significant amount, and people stopped buying. "...And so—"  Amrynn's voice cracked a bit on 'so', it was a heavy topic. They moved their hand up to their throat to massage it a bit, their hands soon falling back into their lap before resuming. Amrynn's dad eventually succumbed to his illnesses due to the lack of money to afford the medical care needed to make him recover, since the business wasnt doing good. Amrynn had no choice but to shut the place down, bury their dad, and move on by travelling elsewhere. They lived their life out in nature for quite some time, about a month or so, and would vent their frustrations by hunting animals with haphazardly assembled weapons made with their poor woodworking skills.

Though, of course, that would only get them so far in life, no point in moping about what could've have been when it can never be. "After the realization, I decided.." Amrynn dug in their pocket, pulling out a wooden knife stained with ink, looking down at it as they resumed the story. If they 'failed' at woodwork, might as well attempt to learn the ins and outs of medicines, herbs, and whatever may follow. Amrynn would travel the lands, inspecting various kinds of plants, noting their effects on the environment around it, the environment it grew in, the effects it had on their skin, whatever else may follow, and documented it on their legs with a wooden knife and ink that they retrieved from woodmaking all that time ago until it could be wrote down on something more permanent. Amrynn even tried injuring animals and attempted to nurture them back to being healthy. They always died. When it rained, they made sure to wrap their cloak around the leg with the least memorized amount of information. Eventually, after a few days of wandering along a path, Amrynn—"I"—found themselves.. "—Here. You're actually the first sign of life, outside of animals and bugs, I've seen in however long its been since I left."