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?: You slowly walk in, planting yourself on the cushion besides the gnarled hag. You glance over, hesitant to speak. Then again; You've been on the road for a long while, and before that? Well, before that was even worse. Years of solitude, convicted of an appalling crime, left to rot in that town's god-forsaken cess-pit, only to be freed by some lucky break, or twist of fate. Maybe it is about time you told your story. You open your mouth, but no words come out. Where to begin? "I.." - "I'm from a village far to the east. We were pillaged, and burnt to the ground..." You say, lying through your teeth.
The hag lets out a grim cackle. She knows you're lying. "I asked you to tell me your story. Not the story of the man who's armor you're wearing." You look down at the mud-ridden and bloody padded tunic you had snatched from the corpse of the man you had killed not five days ago in order to nab the key, and escape your prison-cell amidst the chaos of the raid. The guard you had begun to grow fond of over your time locked up. Guilt and remorse begin to fill your mind. "Who are you... How do you know about my past?" You choke out; Sweat gliding down your dirty fore-head; Coated in the dust of days of un-ending travel. You begin to feel woozy. Touching at your bandaged head only intensifies the pain. You need air. The hag begins to cackle. "Enough of this..." You shout out, throwing your-self to your feet. You head for the exit, but before you can even take two steps, you begin to plummet towards the ground. Exhaustion, malnourishment, dehydration, and of-course, the concussion you had suffered a mere few days ago had begun to take it's toll on you, and your vison slowly fades to black. Additional Notes: Apologies for the lack of actual back-story here. My character does have a well thought-out and in-depth past, but I like to incorporate elements of mystery in my writing/RP, as I feel it makes for more impactful and enjoyable situations, both ICly and OOCly. I hope the overall quality of my writing can make up for this lack of displayed content, and look foreword to you (hopefully) finding out more about my character's past in-game :)
