Nitroflak

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.”
 

Sendrenx paused. He stared at the hag, a stern look spread across his face as he peered from one corner of the tent to the other, rolling his tongue around in his mouth searching for words. "I don't even know myself why I am here, so for you to be expecting me is quite interesting, elder." He looked around, and upon finding the small cushion across from her he moved to sit. "I guess if I'm going to tell the story of my people I best know my own story first. I was born in a small settlement at the western edge of a great forest. My father was a lumberer and farmer, and my mother was a carpenter. I learned a little of both trades but took on after my mother in time." He stopped to look to the woman again, his posture was guarded as he almost held his breath. The woman continued to remain silent, and Sendrenx relaxed as he continued to speak.

"I found a passion for music, simple rhythms that became.. more. It brought people together, it made life better. I want to share that, and I want others to share their craft with me." He tapped a small hand hatchet on his hip, the blade worn from years of use but well cared for. "I still know a little bit on how to defend myself, so if my people need me for more than music, I will do my best to answer." He reached a hand out to the woman, offering to take hers in his own. "Tell me something about yourself. You seem to know a great deal." The woman smiled and began to speak, but what was said is a story to be told another time.