LockedMetaTables

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.”

The sound of his knuckles inadvertently cracking as he places a hand on the ground is just faintly audible. Leaning his legs into a cross legged seated position he lets out a sigh of strain starting, "It is a long story..". His voice buckles a bit and he lets out a cough, clearing his throat and starting with a renewed vigor in his voice, a confidence even, "Ah yes, there's many a thing I could address to such a question."

His voice grows a bit stronger with each word regaining what stamina was lost on the journey to this location, "But I see no reason for the pleasantries of terseness. I will be forthcoming in my tale. For there presents no reason to be anything else." A disregarding tone grew in the back of his throat, likely one of contempt for the old hag and her line of query, "In the times of my childhood there was instilled in me and my siblings the grit and intelligible necessity of emotion, the hot terracotta hills of the south and its sandy bursts of wind would grind down those unwilling to become like steel in form of body and mind. Emotion is the grit of the psyche, harness your reactions and the machinations of your mind are no different to you than your reality"

The hag seemed off put, offended even, by his sudden bolstering of confidence. She had invited him here, and had been expecting and waiting for his arrival. Only to be looked down upon and insulted, but before a word could be uttered by her he spoke again, powerfully but stoically this time, "The family that gave me that control was willing to take it away at any moment, slipping up meant correction and learning. About the importance of family for instance. A lesson instilled in my being, I work indentured for my sister, the heiress of our lineage, Ashani Azir. In no begrudging manner, I know her plans have yet to see fruition and I will see them through with her. We know the fortitude of the mind and years in a militaristic family has shaped us into perfect cogs for a war machine of our own creation."

The woman sank in on herself in confusion and in a state of trembling, "And you tell me this why, what benefit is there in sharing your plans with me?" He chuckled lightly "Why, you asked. Besides, you hold an empty mind withered by time my words enter one ear and stream from the next. You will hardly recall the food you at this morning, much less what I spoke of this evening. But perhaps I misjudge your mind, even so. You would feel no need to act, you are powerless within any regard to me or my plans. I am also no liar, it is just nice to talk to someone sometimes."

He laid down a sack of coin, "But I am no monster, I act on my will and if you happen to cross it I will crush you. But for now, you mean me no ill-will, so take this. Your time was appreciated. But do not mistake this gift as anything more than an act of reciprocity. Goodnight"