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?))
Emre enters the tattered tent and takes their seat on the cushion with one leg up, making themselves comfortable. "I, Emre, came here because I got lost. I can't read directions very well, so it's difficult for me to find my way around here."
"Oho! As for my story, it's not really all that interesting. The tribe I come from is very hidden, and my kins are all very sneaky; that's why you rarely see purple orcs. But I am truly an abomination. My skin is too red to be purple and too purple to be red; it's very hard for me to fit in since I don't belong anywhere. My hair isn't normal either; it's naturally white, not black or brown like the rest of the tribe."
Emre let out a raspy sigh, their eyes shifting around the tattered tent before continuing with hints of shame in their tone. "My brothers all reached adulthood before me; it feels like being a late bloomer has brought shame to the tribe. I just matured recently, at the same time when I was abandoned by the tribe for being too weak. I have nowhere else to go but wander now."
Emre looked at the old lady, then quickly grinned from ear to ear. "But I'm determined. I'm determined to survive, even if I'll be alone forever. I don't care about my past now; all that matters is that I have to live—not for anyone but myself."
