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.” The high elf, clad in finely embroidered robes, carefully adjusted his cloak to avoid the swamp’s murk. “Ah, greetings, respectable lady!” he said, his voice like a music chime. “I am Aerion, and my journey—” “Cut to the chase, elf,” the old hag said, her fingers wrapping around themselves. “No time for pretty words.” Aerion's smile faltered but he regained his attitude. “Very well. I’m on a quest to retrieve the Lost Crown of—” “Save it. You’ve got a map or not?” she interrupted, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Of course," said Aerion. "Seriously. I know what I'm doing."
BACKSTORY:
Aerion is a high elf from Celia'nor who enjoys spending time around people and going on quests. Usually, the "quests" are either dead ends or are immensely difficult, leading to him embarrassing himself most of the time - but his high ego is enough to keep him going. One day, he'll be cool and epic for sure.
