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.”
Taken aback by the crone’s heavy request, Celurion glanced around to see nothing more than her and the rotted tent she likely called home. Seeing no harm in her, he decided to describe his life as it was, for in the future, this would mark a new beginning.
"I am Celurion Vorcaran," he began, settling onto the cushion. "I was born into a respected family in Haelun’or. Long since have I dedicated my life to the pursuit of the High Elven creed of progression and wealth."
"While other Mali’aheral pursued magical mastery or academic legacy, I gravitated toward the darker truths and realities of the manipulation, espionage, and the necessity of moral compromise in preserving Haelun'or."
He looked the old woman in the eye, his voice firm.
"For as my life ahead is soon to begin anew."
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