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?)) Cor'vina wandered through the posts of the dull, drab town, paying no mind to the moisture-laden earth below her feet. A dim light was emitted from a tent- in an almost inviting way. It seemed to call to her, to beckon her closer. She approached it with mild caution, her curiosity surpassing her vigilance. Opening the limp panel of fabric that secured the tent, she ducked to enter it with a feel of unease. At the old hag's familiarity towards her, she seemed confounded- She had never been to this town before, much less been in the presence of this old crone. She took in the scent of hot burning wax as she placed down her belongings, taking a seat on a worn ottoman facing the old woman. Cor'vina stood in silent awe, observing the features of said woman with careful and concise thought as she scanned for any threat. She inhaled strongly, attempting to stay confident and insouciant before beginning her response.
"The story of my upbringing is one of mixed emotion." Her words were quiet and still as she spoke; it was clear she had been travelling alone for long, evident by the raspy tone of her voice as she breathed out her words. She lingered on the thought for a few moments, hesitation on spilling just about her entire life to this unknown crone. However a feeling pulled her towards confession, like an unknown whisper in her ear.
"Comfort, as I look back and remember the days I was held by my mother as she fed me fruits. As my father raced alongside me on the uneven sand of the shore, stumbling and getting a face coated in sand. Such precious memories for the great majority of my life." Cor'vina stood in solemn thought as memories raced through her mind. She absentmindedly ran a hand through a wavy lock of her own hair that cascaded down her shoulder, almost in a sense of self comfort.
"Resilience. As I fought through the many days of instruction and training my father put me through. Endlessly swinging a sword until my arms burned and twitched from exhaustion, watching as the muscle tensed and pain surged through my body from the spasms." I looked down upon my arms, observing the long-healed scars. Reminders of an ache-filled past.
"Betrayal, as I was forced to compete for what little my family could live off in a set of foul and mindless battles. that served as much entertainment as watching a pity-filled dogfight." Cor'vina could almost feel the sting of the bruises and lacerations she suffered after each battle, despite happening many a year ago. A stern bitterness was present in her tone, showing her conflicted thoughts. Resent was clear as she breathed deep once more, fighting against the urge of her eyes watering from frustration.
"Acceptance." She spoke calmly, her voice shaking slightly. It appeared that she still struggled to find peace with this resolution. "Acceptance of what has happened and what is to come. My life begins anew from here. I will not let the past forced upon me affect me." Her words almost seemed like a mantra, attempting to convince herself with her own thoughts.
Cor'vina inhaled powerfully, grounding herself. It was clear she was displeased with this telling of her life, determined to have a grasp on her own sense of being.
"My story begins once I leave this tent."
