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?))
The door flap, its edges tattered and worn, gently settled back to its original position after a lithe woman stepped cautiously into the faint light from within the tent, her sharp features framed by cascading strands of toffee-colored hair. The air was thick with the earthy scent of dampened wood, a contrast to the crisp, fragrances she called home.
Each step was deliberate as she made way towards the person who lingered beyond the clutter, her eyes taking in the haphazardly arranged trinkets and charms that spoke tales of magic and adventure. Eventually, her gaze met that of the older woman. The hag's eyes seemed to see through her facade, driving deep into her thoughts and fears. With her right hand, the elf hesitantly pushed back the oversized hood of her robe.
“I seek guidance,” she finally replied, her voice a low, melodic whisper that cut through the previous silence in the air, “Lenore Lareh'divu, I come from Nevaehlen.”
As she took a seat on the flattened cushion that was offered, she could hear the distant croaks of creatures outside the tent, their calls a mocking taunt to the troubles that plagued her.
“My family and I have long been intertwined with the traditions of our people . . . But recently, a rift has formed between us. Arguments have grown, each clash fueling resentment.” As the elf settled into the cushion, her breathing steadied. A sigh escaped bottom-heavy lips, laced with a certain guilt.
“I can’t exactly recall how long ago this was, but in a moment of defiance, I decided to leave, hoping to discover my own path and gain an understanding of sights I had yet to see . . . The last words we exchanged–or should I say–the last words I heard were claims that I was abandoning them,” almond-shaped nails itched at the back of her pointed ears, she drew a deep breath through her nostrils, her thoughts swirling, “I wanted to travel, venture beyond the borders of our home, learn of those I’ve only really heard about and believed that distance would help me in achieving that. And perhaps, a way to reconcile with a different outlook,” Lenore’s gaze softened, her slender fingers tapping against her knee, “I encountered different perspectives in both tradition and lifestyle. Yet, I still feel . . . unsatisfied. I realize that if I return now, I won’t ever be able to shake the persistent feeling of being unfulfilled. The feeling of coming home empty-handed.”
Though, there was more to her self-journey than she had voiced. There wasn’t a tendril of doubt the old woman knew that. Lenore sensed that within these lands, amidst the wars and chaos, lay secrets of knowledge waiting to be discovered, tugging at her to uncover the truth. Whether she would ever unearth these mysteries . . was left to what lies ahead in her future.
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