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.” ((Willow stayed silent at first, breathing heavily from the candle smoke. the tent had very poor ventilation, unlike the grand halls and ballrooms the Woodland Elves have. She could feel the tension rising in the air as the hag waited for her speech. clenching her fists, She slowly began. "Well, there's not much too it i suppose. i'm nothing special. i grew up with the Wood Elves and followed my mother's path. everyone is still alive and well.." She paused, wondering if she should say the next part, but eventually gave into the satisfaction. "it makes me wish sometimes one of my parents had died so people would notice me. i was a mixed, my father being of the high elves and my mother of the Wood elves, but the only thing about me that is high elf is my skin and hair. " Willow waited in silence for the hag's words, wondering if she had shared too much. when the woman doesn't respond, she continues shakily. "I had run away, hoping to seek some adventure to make myself known. but then night fell and i needed some sort of shelter to spend the night... oh how i'm starting to miss the dark wood staircases and crystal decorations back in my home.." Then she clamped her mouth shut, realizing how spoiled she sounded right now. "I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to say those things," she whispered, holding back tears. Willow clenched her bow in her hands, questioning her choices leading up to this point. "I should have listened to the Elders. Why did i have to put myself in this position.." ))
