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?)) Example:
As I sit here, the memory of my father's fierce determination and my mother's gentle touch flood my mind, intertwining with the shadows that have always cloaked my existence. I am a dark elf, born into a world where the echoes of battle and the whispers of illness shape the very fabric of my being.
It was a stormy night when my father fell in battle, his sword clutched tightly in his hand as he fought against the encroaching darkness that threatened our lands. His bravery was unmatched, his loyalty unwavering. But even the mightiest warriors can be felled by the cruel hand of fate. I remember standing by his side, a mere child, watching helplessly as the battle raged on around us. The clash of steel, the cries of pain – they still echo in the recesses of my mind.
When news of my father's death reached our home, it was as if a part of me had been torn away. My mother, ever the beacon of strength in our family, held me close as we mourned his loss together. But the shadows of grief were not the only specter haunting our doorstep.
Not long after my father's passing, my mother fell ill. It was a sickness that crept through her veins like a silent serpent, its venom slowly sapping away her strength. I watched as her once vibrant spirit dimmed, replaced by a pale reflection of the woman she once was. My heart ached with each labored breath she took, each whispered prayer for her recovery.
Despite our efforts, my mother's illness proved too formidable a foe. She passed away quietly, her hand clasped in mine, her final breath a whispered farewell. In that moment, I was left alone in a world suddenly devoid of light.
But even in the darkest of nights, there is a glimmer of hope. Through the pain and sorrow, I found solace in the memories of my parents – their love, their sacrifice, their unwavering faith in a better tomorrow. And though they may no longer walk beside me, their legacy lives on, guiding me through the shadows as I journey forth into an uncertain future.
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
I am sorry for wasting your time madam we will be parting ways and may the light inside you guide you through your dark days.
You walk out the door while rain falls onto your head and you continue on your journey seeking purpose in this miserable world.
