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.”
Trifolium sits on the cushion, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he begins to speak.
“I was born in a small village, a place of simple joys and quiet struggles. My mother, a healer, was my guiding light, but she passed when I was just a boy. Before she left, she gave me a clover and told me to hold it tight—her way of reminding me that even in loss, there is life and hope.”
He glances at the candles, their soft glow reflecting in his eyes.
“After her passing, I felt lost, but the priests who visited our village saw something in me. They offered me a chance to study to become a priest, and though it meant leaving everything I knew, I believed it was the path I was meant to take. I left with little more than my mother’s clover and a prayer in my heart, hoping to one day bring light to others as she had brought to me.”
He shifts slightly, his voice quiet but firm.
“Now I’m on my way to these years of study..The road has been long, but I have faith that I made the right choice—though sometimes, I wonder if the Divine truly called me… or if I was running from the pain of staying.”
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