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?))
Vesryn eyes the cushion and the stranger warily, lips pursed in momentary thought. Giving in to curiousity he settles down upon the cushion. "I grew up in the Vale of Nevaehlen with mostly wood elves. I was raised by my adoptive mother Seres Dawnfire. She found my slaughtered parents carriage with me still alive inside it. I lived my life as if I were a wood elf but knowing I didn't quite match. I was treated well don't get me wrong, but I've always craved that knowledge of what I lost. So thats what brought me here. I'm searching for information on my birth parents. I want to know where I came from and meet other high elves like me." He pauses, frowning to himself. "I'm sorry that makes it seem like I'm terribly ungrateful for Seres, but I'm not. I do love her and all she's done for me. I'll always consider her my mother." Vesryn's hand moves to brush against the pendent around his neck. The good luck charm Seres gave him, an item he finds great comfort in. "Thank you for listening. I really should keep moving. If we were fated to have met it has been a joyous meeting indeed."
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