Konezz_

Character Name: Baelric

Character Race: Human

Character Gender: Male

Character Age: 37

Physical Description: He is 1.96 meters tall, well-built at 104.6 kilograms, with messy brown hair, a stubbled beard, and striking blue eyes. His clothes are old and torn

Roleplay Scenario:

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?))

Example: (

You sit, shifting the weight of the bow on your back before speaking, your voice low and gravelled from cold nights in the woods.

"I was born in the village of Elmsreach, near the edge of the Blackpine Forest. My mother died in childbirth, and my father—he was a hunter, quiet and grim—taught me the ways of the forest. How to read the wind, how to track through mud, and how to listen when the woods fall silent. But it was the bow that called to me most. By the time I was fifteen, I could split a squirrel's eye from a hundred paces. My arrows flew swift and silent."

You glance at the flickering candles, their wax trailing like ghostly tears.

"War came when I was seventeen. Not the kind with banners and trumpets, but the quiet kind, where villages vanish in the night and no one speaks the names of the ones who took them. Raiders, beasts, things that didn't bleed like men. I lost my father. I lived in the trees after that. Hunted what others feared to follow. My bow became more than a tool—it became my oath."

Your voice lowers further.

"They started calling me ‘Hollowwind’ in the border towns. Said I moved like mist and struck like shadow. I didn’t ask for names or coin. I asked for stories—rumors. Anything that would lead me to the one who wears the crow-feather cloak. The one who marked my father’s body with sigils I still can't read."

You lean forward, the candlelight casting sharp shadows on your face.

"And now... the trail led me here. To rot and water, and to you."

The hag smiles slowly, her eyes glinting like wet stone.

"Then we have much to discuss, Hollowwind."

) 

"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…