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?))
Silvan brushes her dress off, looking around wincing, not liking the tent. "I? I am nobody, barely even elf." She says with a pout, then she sits down into a chair with a sigh. "I am Silvan, a young high elf with little no to connection with Haelunor. I..." She swallows, looking away "I'm alone in this world, and I want to find friends, maybe even something more, but, I am lonely, and cold." She shivers. "I was born in Lurin, to a no name family, and grew up surrounded by other races. I just want to be with my own people, but I'm unsure if they'll even accept me as I am...I was only born to regular high elf parents, and I heard that Haelun'or respects purity, but, I don't know how pure I am!" The young girl would say back, her voice almost exploding. "I'm just, unsure, you know?" She looks down to the ground. "S-Sorry, that was a bit much, wasn't it?"
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