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.”
“My name is Ba’al Anarion, my mother is Lumia Anarion, the Golden Lubba of the most Serene State of Lurin. My father has not been around for many decades now, he left one day and never came back. Mother says he was a bronze elf from Sulianpoli. But I don’t remember him much.” He shrugged, unbothered. “Growing up was rather peaceful I would think. Mother made sure I had all I’d need and more. She was still a Princess then, and grandfather Mika was the Silver Lubba. I was born in Old Lurin, before those spider freaks came and sieged us. The new city is nice though, I’ve spent a lot of my time in the keep, or in the Lubrary reading through all the books they managed to bring over from Old Lurin. Dunno what else there is to tell ya really.” Ba’al would grin then and let out a light laugh.
Recommended Comments