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?))
He glances up to her, feeling the textile leather of the logbook cinched by his waist. "Story.. I don't suppose I've thought one written." He ponders for a moment longer, as he soon unfastens the knot affixing the pouch, retrieving said book. "Perhaps there is one, between the lines of scripture to experiences." Unclasping the stud, splaying the book across his lap, to the first page. "It all began when I was young, my birth was.. unexpected. Born with these..-" Trailing off for a moment, deciding his words choicefully. "- Eyes.. blood-red in color, like those Dark Elves.." His expression appears troubled of experiences unspeakable. "My eyes frightened the community held like a panopticon, like a creature unknown to the culture.." His grip firms on the pages, a silent anger kept untapped as he shakes it away with his head. "Scrutinized all my life, until the hour struck the day to leave the woodlands, knowing I never truly did belong." The air is tense, conflicted feelings of rebellion and a hint of regret brew within his expression. "I've never known a Dark Elf.. I never knew if my birth was that of a scandal, or it was simply factors beyond my understanding.." His gaze raises towards the hag once again, an expression of hate. "Fed tales of Dark Elves since adolescence, spoken as monsters, as evils. Yet, to be questioned if I share the blood of one, to be seen so freakish for what I am born-.." Catching himself on ramblings, uncontrolled at first of his emotions, letting them slip into the words. He breathes an exhale, changing the topic. "My journey.. I suppose is to find out if these.. 'tales' are true. If I deserve this treatment, if perhaps it means more than I know. Just.." He sighs, looking out into the night from the tent, which flaps bellow in the cold wind. "Just to see if I am not alone, to see if.. out there.." Glancing back towards the old lady, his hazy red eyes catching the moonlight. "I do belong.." He pauses for a moment.. considering his own words. "Maybe.. one day, when I've found my answers.. I'll bring this book back to my village, and they'll see for themselves what I am." He shuts the book, feeling almost.. content to put it all into words, that no amount of scribbling can truly speak the depths.
