OctoRuler

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?)) "Well, I....I seem to be a little lost..." At the invitation, Varik happily takes a seat to rest his aching body. He has been on the move for many moons now and can't remember the last time he rested. Before gathering his thoughts anymore, Varik turned his head, trying to take in his surroundings. His eyes took in the state of the town. It was dim, rotten, and small. He sniffed the air..." Ack!" to smell the rotten wood. It was not a pleasant smell as he much preferred the smell of fresh rain and healthy foliage. With a sigh, Varik turned his attention back to the lady, drinking in her appearance as well. There were no impure intentions behind his gaze, but there was that of a collector. A collector of sights, stories, tales, and adventures. "I am lost... both to myself and my people. We are... very proud people, but I have always been different in a way. I cannot put myself above others or think of myself as anyone's superior..." Varik is taken back into his thoughts as he voices this realization to not only himself but this stranger. A stranger who seems to know him more than he knows himself. "Such expectations were too much, so I left. I left in hopes of finding myself, but I fear I was lying to myself. I have met many people on my journey and heard all their stories, which I have all kept!" As if trying to prove something, Varik opened his satchel and pulled out three different tomes. Upon opening each, he revealed a collection of tales he had gathered. "It's not much, but...it's a start. I learned, though.... this is what I wish to learn and protect. This is the art I wish to pursue. I wasn't to create a place where I can gather and protect these stories so others may read and learn. So, no one's life can be forgotten. I even have one started for me...It's not long, but I hope one day it will be..." Surprised by his mindless ramble, he gazed up at the woman and offered a small smile. Unlike the most High Elves, Varik saw beauty in the other races. A beauty and strength that his people tend to ignore. "Could I know your story as well?"

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?)) "Well, I....I seem to be a little lost..." At the invitation, Varik happily takes a seat to rest his aching body. He has been on the move for many moons now and can't remember the last time he rested. Before gathering his thoughts anymore, Varik turned his head, trying to take in his surroundings. His eyes took in the state of the town. It was dim, rotten, and small. He sniffed the air..." Ack!" to smell the rotten wood. It was not a pleasant smell as he much preferred the smell of fresh rain and healthy foliage. With a sigh, Varik turned his attention back to the lady, drinking in her appearance as well. There were no impure intentions behind his gaze, but there was that of a collector. A collector of sights, stories, tales, and adventures. "I am lost... both to myself and my people. We are... very proud people, but I have always been different in a way. I cannot put myself above others or think of myself as anyone's superior..." Varik is taken back into his thoughts as he voices this realization to not only himself but this stranger. A stranger who seems to know him more than he knows himself. "Such expectations were too much, so I left. I left in hopes of finding myself, but I fear I was lying to myself. I have met many people on my journey and heard all their stories, which I have all kept!" As if trying to prove something, Varik opened his satchel and pulled out three different tomes. Upon opening each, he revealed a collection of tales he had gathered. "It's not much, but...it's a start. I learned, though.... this is what I wish to learn and protect. This is the art I wish to pursue. I wasn't to create a place where I can gather and protect these stories so others may read and learn. So, no one's life can be forgotten. I even have one started for me...It's not long, but I hope one day it will be..." Surprised by his mindless ramble, he gazed up at the woman and offered a small smile. Unlike the most High Elves, Varik saw beauty in the other races. A beauty and strength that his people tend to ignore. "Could I know your story as well?"