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.” The look on the elf's face was one of utter relief; as the heat bloomed against his bare face, a smile washed openly over his features. "Hope I'm not to late! Would've got here at noon, but - pssh, these roads! Pa told me I'd be regretting it if I didn't bring his horse, and now I'm gonna owe him ten Minas forrit." His voice was a boisterous noise; as he spoke, he cleaned off his boots at the entryway, and then sunk down to his knees atop the cushion provided, a long sigh of relief leaving his lips. After spending a few solid moments of fixing at the hood of his poncho down and freeing the long plait of ivory hair trapped within, he planted his hands firmly atop his legs, adopting a respectfully straight posture before the old hag.
With a simple smile, Naith inclined his head forward, his voice lowering a touch, "I thank the Ancestors for my safe travels - and I thank you just as much for your service, Ma'am. I'll get started now, so please, bare witness to my words. I am aware that we touched upon it a little bit with the bird that reached your hut, but today, my main goal still stands to return health to my mother." There was a silence in the air, as Naith stilled. The elf closed his eyes briefly; a contemplative air twinging at his sharp features.
"I'm not too sure on the details, but I believe that my bloodline attempted to find a loophole around the curse of Iblees at one time. Those in my family, they have a very high chance of conceiving twins, but - when they do, the mother is destined to perish, and the father will never bare child again. My Pa, though - he wanted to try to break the loop when I was born with my sibling." With a glint of muted pride in his eye, Naith lifted his chin, "He's an amazing Alchemist. The best in the world. When Ma discovered she was gonna have two little troublemakers, he tore up his roots in Nor'Asath and took her up to Celia'nor. Put the best doctors on it to keep her alive." As he spoke, he fidgeted with the end of his braid, his voice drifting back to a more muted tone,
"I've never seen her walk, though. Or do much else. That's - that's why I'd like to help her. Folk in my family, they'll call us momma killers. They're waitin' for the other horseshoe to drop, then they'll say it to our faces. I know that much. They're kind to us, but I know they've been waiting eighteen years for it. I don't want to disappoint them."
After that, Naith allowed the silence to linger, the chirping of the dusklit bog quietly seeping through the tent's well-worn walls. "I don't know what I want in life yet." He admitted, quietly, "I'm still just a child. Up until recently, all I've ever done was help tend Pa's shop and run deliveries in town. I guess - I'd like to get into the Celia'nor Academy someday, learn magic and stick it on a blade so well it'd knock the ears off of the snotty Mali'aheral we live next to. I'd also like to see all of Almaris one day. Maybe beyond that, too."
"..So, what do your eyes see for me, Ma'am? Weal or woe?"
(Note: Slot is open to play for the other Mettalyth twin! Also, no, Naith's dad isn't actually the best alchemist in the world.)