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?))
"Oh, wow, it reeks in here!," says the girl as she enters the hut, pinching her nose, her brows furrowing in a delicate heart-shaped face. Hazel eyes squint through the darkness, a glass pen and book clutched underneath one arm. "You were expecting me...? Hm, I don't recall ever making any announcement of my arrival - are you a diviner, perhaps?" she asks. She looks down at the cushion, hesitates for a moment, then sits as directed. "It's a bit dark to write here... Oh well, I'll just remember what happens here and write it down later."
"So - my story - I'm not sure why, but I feel compelled to tell you? I wouldn't normally go into this much detail with someone I've just met - is it an enchantment?" She blinks her eyes curiously, eyes examining each corner of the tent for arcane sigils or runes or materials. "How interesting - is it the arrangement of the candles? Ah! But we're supposed to be talking about me!"
She pauses, with a bright, cheerful smile. "I was born to a high elven father and a wood elven mother - a scandal, I'm sure you'd know. Unfortunately, I never really met them - they were killed not long after I was born, I'm told, though I know not the details myself. The people who raised me were instead humans - apparently close friends to my mother. Knowing what I do now, about elven-kind, and the mali'ame in particular - I'm not entirely sure why I wasn't simply raised by the community. They probably would have!" She taps the end of her pen against her chin. "Maybe it's because my parents died in human lands - my parents - the ones who raised me - never told me. But that's besides the point - I was raised by humans, and given a human name to match. I'm Stephanie - that's the name I was raised with. Apparently it's a translation of the name my parents first gave me -" she pauses, to slowly sound out the elven - "Anah'wy'laureh, - something like 'crown' - I think the literal translation is, 'noble head'."
"My father was a scholar. He wasn't quite nobility, maybe something more like the gentry - he was well-learned about various topics, focusing on history and myth and folklore of the other races. He was a linguist, of course - he knew the human Common, of course, and then of the Ancient Elven tongue - he knew a bit of Urukhal and Dwedmarrum. My parents were followers of the Church of the Canon - but though they taught me some of the doctrines, they never really enforced the faith on me. Maybe it was something to do with my birth parents."
She thinks on it a bit longer. "When I first turned 18 - I still am, now - my parents bade me venture to other lands. Learn of the world, especially of the places of my birthkin. So - that brings me here and now..."
She hums to herself a moment, spinning the glass pen between her fingertips idly. "Whatever enchantment compelled me to share seems to have worn off now - shall I venture forth, then? The sun will rise, soon, and that is the best time to travel, especially for a lone girl as myself. I've no real martial skill to speak of - and I've not the connections or resources at present to hire help, not without literally selling the clothes off my back - and I think I'd like to avoid that," she finishes with a giggle, before dusting herself and standing up. "I think the word in Elven is - 'van'ayla!'
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