LowkeyNrcssist

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.” Ayca nervously enters the tent as the old hag speaks. Her guard still on, she eyes the old hag up and down and looks around at her surroundings, the weirdly sour smell of rotten wood giving her some form of comfort. After carefully inspecting the place thoroughly she turns her gaze back at the hag. Her gaze softens a bit. . . . She sighs. " My name is Ayca, Im from the Southern Lands. I am the second child of a couple living at a small humble village. I grew up with my mother, a Southern Farfolk, my father, a Elf and my older sister of blood. " She smiles in a trance upon remembering her childhood. Her gaze turns to the ground. She looks as if she is talking to herself more than the hag. " I was always a curious child. I would leave the village to explore and not return for hours. I loved exploring the forest, being with nature. And I loved being part of a group of people who appreciated nature just a much a I did. And being only part elf I felt a if I didnt fully belong to the culture much. And me getting my mothers looks didnt really help. I learned common tongue as I was learning my peoples language. It came of use since most books Id find about the far away world was in common tongue. I always yearned for more than my little town. Dont get me wrong, I loved it there, but I felt as if I always had a calling from somewhere far away. When I became of age I left my village to become an adventurer and start a life for myself. And this town is my very first stop. " She stands proudly. Her back archens as she looks at the hag confidently.

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.” Ayca nervously enters the tent as the old hag speaks. Her guard still on, she eyes the old hag up and down and looks around at her surroundings, the weirdly sour smell of rotten wood giving her some form of comfort. After carefully inspecting the place thoroughly she turns her gaze back at the hag. Her gaze softens a bit. . . . She sighs. " My name is Ayca, Im from the Southern Lands. I am the second child of a couple living at a small humble village. I grew up with my mother, a Southern Farfolk, my father, a Wood Elf and my older sister of blood. " She smiles in a trance upon remembering her childhood. Her gaze turns to the ground. She looks as if she is talking to herself more than the hag. " I was always a curious child. I would leave the village to explore and not return for hours. I loved exploring the forest, being with nature. And I loved being part of a group of people who appreciated nature just a much a I did. But being only part elf I felt a if I didnt fully belong. And me getting my mothers looks didnt really help. When I became of age I left my village to become an adventurer and start a life for myself. This town being my first stop. " She stands proudly. Her back archens as she looks at the hag confidently.