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?)) Example: (delete this) The atmosphere was tense with expectation as the room was enveloped in a terrifying blackness. A person moved forward, their elf origins evident in their lithe and beautiful body. It was a dark elf, and the faint light that managed to get through the darkness was reflected off of their charcoal skin. The elf was tall and thin and oozed mystery and intrigue. Coming from another realm where dark elves had ruled it all, he wanted to try something different by coming to Aevos. The dark elf observed the situation, his gaze sweeping over the room, soaking in every detail with eyes as piercing as the moonlight on a frigid winter night. His features were angular and sharp, but they also had a certain charm that appeared to entice people while simultaneously repelling them with a phantom feeling of danger. "My name is Shadowthorn Zephyrion. I have come to serve those of my kind in this realm and will help them prevail, whatever it takes", He said in the most solemn and powerful voice that he could speak in, talking about the dark elves.
