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?))
Kezthar pauses, silently foraging his mind for an acceptable answer. “I am looking for . . . ” He licks his cracked lips, somehow making them even drier. All the while, his distracted eyes wander along the tent’s walls, settling on the candles hovering above them. “A new beginning.” The words flow out of his mouth like molasses, and his eyes drift back down to the strange woman before him. Her steady gaze seemed to pierce right through his guard, and within moments, words he had intended to keep deep within his chest rapidly began to spill out. “More specifically, new people—not that I dislike my family—but I feel as if I am overstaying. Not just them, but after I had turned eighteen, I have had this feeling of urgency. Urgency to break beyond what I currently was. I tried to ignore it, but the signs were becoming more apparent. I couldn’t ignore them anymore, so I left.” The silence was deafening, awaiting for his closing statement, but it never came. Kezthar’s hands shifted awkwardly in his lap as his spine curled in on itself. There was an air of uncertainty, and it was evident he was holding himself back. Whatever it was, it remained unspoken. “And now, I hope to find something, or someone, to allow me to discover what I need!”
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