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?))
After tracking far a field, and sloshing through swampy waters, Rylee was relieved to find some settlement. While slightly unnerved by the old woman, he takes a seat. He takes a moment to clear his throat, before managing to answer.
“My name is Rylee, Rylee Malgath.” He begins with a simple introduction, “I have been traveling for some time, so forgive me if I ramble. There’s a lot to share.”
The elven man shifted on the cushion he was sitting on in an attempt to get comfortable. It was going to be a long conversation.
“I originally hail from Celia'nor, I lived there for most of my young life. However, I felt the pull of adventure. I wanted to see new sights other than the city I called home.” A heavy frown grew on Rylee’s face, his hands curling into fits in his lap.
“It came to be the worst mistake I ever made..” He hesitated, uneasy about continuing. Rylee swallowed back his nerves, shaking his head.
“I crossed paths with a seemingly human man, who seeked a safe place to camp. I hadn’t seen the harm. It.. Was a rather grave mistake, as by morning I found myself changed.”
He raised a hand to his left eye, running his fingers under it. It’s once white sclera now blackened and the skin around it pale as the dead. “Part of me was stolen, taken and replaced by something dark.” Rylee’s voice lowered, and his brows knitted. A mix of loathing and bitterness took over the elves' expression.
“I seek to regain what I have lost, and punish those who have taken from me.”
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