Lvcius_

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?))

Morrindir smiles weakly, before taking a seat. It is the first sliver of comfort he has felt in months. "It is a long story, my lady, I suggest you make sure you are comfortable." He pauses a moment, mulling over his words. "I was born in the wild. My parents had been travelling, and I came far earlier than expected. Thankfully, we were not far from home." He paused again, face solemn. "High elves are known for their disdain towards the 'impure'. When we arrived home, we were turned away. Cast out the moment they saw my hair." Morrindir's face turns bitter, resentment seeping into his tone. "My parents were both high elves, pure and fair. If there was any impure blood in their veins, it was from long ago, and had not raised its head until now." A sigh of frustration, long and suffering. "Black hair is not a high elven trait,and unfortunately for us, it was not as easy to hide as a strange height, or unusual form. My parents were pure. They did not care. We were cast out, abandoned to the wilds." His expression turns sad, the resentment in his tone giving way to deep melancholy, "I am told they wandered long. My mother cared for me, my father protected us both. It wasn't enough. My father died when I was young, too young for me to truly remember him." The sadness on Morrindir's face deepens. "We were alone for a long time, Mother and I, surviving on what little we had. We were content. It was not comfortable, it was not easy, but we were content." His voice is quiet now, little more than a whisper. "Everything went wrong a few months ago. We wandered too close to an elven city - do not ask me it's name, I do not know. They caught sight of me, and we were fired upon. My mother… she was shot. Fatally." Morrindir pauses, reigning in strong emotions he had kept buried since the event. "Her final instructions keep going, keep moving. She told me to come here, to you. She told me I would find shelter here. Sanctuary." Morrindir stands, expression hardening, determination steeling his brow. "I have no home, I have no kin." he begins, "I have no money, no food, nothing but my father's old armour and the clothes on my back, but I will survive as I was instructed. With or without your aid, I will endure." He relaxes slightly, expression softening, returning to careful neutrality. "Having said that, your aid would be greatly appreciated. Will you help me?"