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?)) Allavander takes a seat in front of the old hag, letting out a sigh as he attempts to find where to begin.
"My story, huh?" he begins, running a hand through his hair as he looks around the tent, identifying the features of the inside of the tent as he clears his through and speaks. "There isn't much to tell to be honest. I spent my childhood in a small cottage in the forest with my parents and siblings. We were pretty far away from any towns, so we always had to rely on the land to survive. You know; hunting, foraging, carpentry. That kind of thing. Father was sure to pass on all the tools we needed before sending us out into the world on out own."
Allavander tilts his head toward his bow and his satchel left waiting for him at the tent's entrance and says, "And, clearly, I stuck with it. And I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. Good enough to keep the people I care about feed and comfortable, for the most part."
"A few years ago, when I came of age," he continues, now with a more tense and guarded sound in his voice, "it was time for me to set out on my own. So, I travelled a tenday to the nearest village; a little village name Quiet along the main path through the forest. I really tried... to stay there. I started working for money, and tried to meet new people. And I enjoyed it but..." his eyes drift downward, shifting back and forth, looking for how to phrase what he'd been going through these last few years.
"Something didn't feel right. Like the wilderness kept calling me back. So I moved away, thinking a new town would be better. A change of atmosphere would help. A big city; a tall one that had big stone towers and buildings, withthousands of different people all around."
With a snort and a smile, he says "I loved that city. And those people. I fell to love several of them, and I wanted to do everything for them. But... that feeling. It just kept coming back. A friend helped get me a place to stay of my own, so I had someplace to come back to at the end of the day. It kepts me anchored there, to some extent. I go away for days and months on end, but eventually the feeling leaves, and the feeling of lonliness overtakes it, When that happens, I go back. To see them, and to rest, and to try to anchor myself a little stronger to the city each time I come back around."
Allavander shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair once more, as he clearly has overshared with a stranger. Though, something about this stranger is clearly... special.
"So, uh, what was it you needed from me again?"
