EarlGrey

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?)) You take a step back and survey the area. You eye the crone warily, then back outside the tent. After a breif assessment, you deem it safe and enter the tent, taking a seat on the cushion. "Well," you begin, "I come from the rural parts of High Elf territory. My parents were ordinary middle-class, average citizens. They were never really present and let me go off on my way when I came of age." Being an elf who kept to herself most of the time, she preferred living on the outskirts of town, always knowing everything that happened but never really involving herself. She hated picking sides but often found herself having to. Maybe it was her lust for adventure that brought her to this tent, much like all other conflicts she's gotten into.