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.”
*Aylir sits down in front of the old lady, looking slightly confused at why she stopped him. But his reverence for elderly people and respect runs deep in his culture, so he beings to talk about his story, as any proper dark elf would*
"My story? I am Aylir, of the Raben'kor lineage and clan. I have lived as a adventurous spirit for long, being raised within the power chasing clan that is the Raben'kor's this didn't sit straight with my family. They trained me is swordsmanship and tried to raise me to be a strong-willed "winner". Some people might call me a strong willed person-"
*He said stopping mid-conversation. He looked to the ground and took a deep breath taking some time for a pause*
"But I'm not sure. If you truly want to know, the only thing that represents my story is a search for a purpose and a place to poor my passion into" *He said in a philosophical manner, trying to assimilate to the mystical situation of the swampy town.* "I suppose this has led me to roam around for longer than I might've wanted. Not settling down yet, despite my age and person."
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