Rushodan

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?))

A silent gaze meets the hag; their tarnished armour tainted by years of exposure to the elements. "You were expecting me? An indistinguishable Mali'ame looking for a place to settle down?" The elf mutters, doing as they are told and plonking themselves down onto the awaiting cushion, leather creaking a sigh of relief as the man sits down.

"There isn't much to tell, I am afraid. I was once a hunter, like many of my kin. I know how to shoot a bow and how to appropriately respect the creatures that are met with it. In time, my bow skill was required elsewhere and I have had the time to serve and to travel." The elf sighs, allowing their mask to drop down and reveal their face. They seem as tired as the rest of their equipment. "Eventually I stopped serving and started to live for myself. Not like that went fantastically well..." The elf looks into the distance, eyes appearing almost sad for a moment, before returning to the hag. "Unfortunately, the life of a nomad gets a little lonely, so I find myself wanting to settle down once more." It was clear the elf had omitted many key details, apparently not wanting to focus on them quite yet.

They had a brief look of realisation after finishing their story, folding one leg over the other as they inspect their companion. "How about yourself? Who are you, and how can I be of assistance? Are you really sure that it is someone like me you are looking for?"