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.”
"Me? Uh..." Glaring at the old, mature rag I exited the tent. The town feels quieter and the wind starts to blow on my face. I was due an answer by then so I told her. I grew up in Rivendell and was widely obsessed with exploration. I usually stayed clear of anywhere I was not allowed. Now my parents are gone, although I chose to accept that they are with me in spirit. I still carried out on my love for exploration, and that's how I got here now.
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