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?))
Arasne's first step into the tent is a confident one, but her scowl and the tentative glint in her eyes soon betrays it.
Her eyes lock with the Crone’s and she squints “I don’t tend to chat with people shrouded in darkness” hmms “unless you pour a good drink”
Arasne sits down across from the hag with a slight hmph, as the old crone offers a toothy smile. Her gnarled fingers trail down the hem of the fouled tablecloth to somewhere beneath, and pulls out a small, old rustic looking silvery cruet, seemingly filled with some liquid as she waves it back and forth before her
“Oh worry not, young lass” her voice grating against the otherwise quiet, calm setting. She soon places it before her, as an offering almost from the devil herself.
Arasne raises an eyebrow and cautiously picks it up to her nose. After a whiff, and a shrug, she takes a sip.
“Satisfying enough” she says, her voice booming amidst the tranquility of the winds around her “My story, ya say… it is not often I am asked such a question.” She gestures to the many scars on her body “I’ve fought. Its quite simple- I hunted, I scavenged. What’s it to you?” She continues to sip on the small flask and crosses her arms, with an accusatory raised eyebrow.
After some time of silence - Arasne’s words were met only by the same knowing toothy grin of the crone - Arasne lets out a chuff, the alcohol seemingly weakening her careful boundaries
She lets out a sigh, looking at the flask
“I never yearned for combat, but it simply came easier to me. My sister operates closer to the” she waves her hand “realm of academics. I was never so keen” she frowns and take a swig “I wanted to be. The days went by, and soon the years came with them. But I have not forgotten, no no no.” she waves the flask before her face and lets out a wistful, slight smile “I want t’own my own vineyard. Ever since I was young, I wanted to. Alcohol always helped lessen the sting of cuts and stabs, but… the taste of fine wine soothes you down t’ya soul. I want to help do that for others, ya’know?” She slams the flask down, finishing it with a jubilant exhale of breath, and thanks the old crone with a coin before taking her leave, her movements punctuated by the clinks of battle-axes against her body. (She probably forgot something).
(the player ToastyHiccup would play my twin sister, we have spoken OOC already about this.)
