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?)) "I have been wandering for quite some time now, in search of some place to seek residence. It would seem I have found such a place." Beau's eyes dart around the tent. He is intrigued by the suspended candles but he chooses not to ask. "My story... such is one of insignificance, but if you wish to hear it, then very well. I hope you have time reserved." Beau sits down on the cushion that the hag gestured to. "I had grown up in a house with my brother Autumn. He was a prodigy; every task, every challenge, every question, completed and answered within minutes. He was amazing, and my parents idolized him. I suffered an... alternate fate."
Beau's eyes wander to the floor, staring at nothing in particular. "I could never hold a candle to him. He was perfect, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never best him in any field. My parents knew this. They always looked at me dejectedly while praising every breath Autumn took. Most others in my field would have lost hope in themselves, but in truth, there was one thing I was better at than Autumn."
Beau looked up towards the roof of the tent, a faint sparkle in his blue eyes. "Simply put, I was better than Autumn at telling stories. Whenever I was tossed to the side, I turned to my leather-bound tome and wrote. I told stories of anguish, of sadness, and of despair, but also of joy, of love, and of hope. That notebook was my pride and joy."
The lingering sparkle in Beau's eyes quickly faded, as his face filled with despair. "A few days ago... my family had brought everyone together for a family gathering. It went as usual, however near the end my father began to rant about how disappointed he was in me. He just talked on and on about his distain for me. I chose to speak up and defend myself, I said 'That's what Autumn is for. He's the successful one, right?' But my father looked me dead in the eye, and said 'You were this family's biggest mistake. We should have never brought you into this world.' My own father said that to me... I tried to grab my notebook and leave, but he stopped me. He grabbed the notebook and set fire to it. All of that time, all of that work... gone."
Beau looked onward at nothing in particular. His eyes were pale, as if two solid globs of color had been placed on his face. Nothing was there to be seen. "I ran. I ran out of the house and out of the town and into the wilderness."
Beau looked back up at the hag. "Well, that's my story. I appreciate your time, but I must go find some place to rest. It has been some time since I have known the release of sleep."
