Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
You hesitate to speak, before noticing something in her eyes. It feels familiar and safe. Her clouded and ancient eyes make you feel oddly safe. A feeling that has long been gone, since starting this arduous trek. “My name’s Joe. Odd name for an Elf, eh? Being orphaned with your brother usually allows for pretty unconventional names.” Your eyes flicker to the flickering candlelight, remembering smoke and screams. “I was once a courier... Until meaningless war and rampage destroyed both my route and reason.” Lowering yourself onto the cushion, you bring your knees up to your chest. “I’ve been somewhat of a wanderer since then... chasing rumors of a place where the veil between worlds is thin.” You glance up at her, voice quieter now. “I think… I think I’m here because I don’t have anywhere left to go.” You clutch at the collar of your shirt before continuing. "Finding a place to call home, would mean the world to me. Even if I were to have to journey through hell to get there."
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