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?))
A young, tall elf woman, bearing the name Luna Esteln, entered the small town. She looked upon the place with disdain. Despite moving with the grace characteristic of her kind, the area seemed to draw her closer to its epicenter. Each step appeared to drain her strength. A mist enveloped the old, partially decayed wooden huts and the worn, sometimes chipped, stone houses. Every scent in the village was unbearable to her sensitive senses. Although it was here that her steps had brought her, she wished to leave as soon as possible. Every plant seemed lifeless, its lush green long gone. Even the once-blue sky had turned gray, blending with the hues of the village’s walls, while the mist provided a perfect contrast, giving the scene a mysterious and eerie appearance. When the path she followed led her to the outskirts of the village, her eyes fell upon a low, brown tent. Every scratch and tear in the fabric bore witness to the passage of time, relentlessly eroding everything in its wake. Reluctantly, she stepped inside the shelter, forced to stoop as she entered. Within the stretched canvas, she saw something both expected and completely unexpected. The faded fabric suggested that the place was inhabited by someone elderly. What surprised her, however, were the candles floating in the air. Their flames danced atop waxen bodies, imbuing the moment with a mysterious, almost mystical atmosphere. Her silvery hair glinted faintly, illuminated by the warm glow, giving her an almost magical yet perilous appearance. The golden embellishments and designs on her snow-white tunic shimmered like glass touched by sunlight. Hearing a command, the elven girl hesitated for a long time, pondering whether to heed the elderly woman’s request. In the end, curiosity prevailed, and she sat on a gray, faded cushion. Countless questions arose in her mind. On the one hand, she was not surprised by the old woman’s words, as if a part of her soul had always known someone was waiting for her. On the other hand, this village was entirely unfamiliar to her. She had never been here before.
— “Were you expecting me?” — she asked, astonished.
She hoped, thought even, that she would receive an answer from the old woman, but none came. Instead, she was asked to tell her story. Luna’s gaze shifted from the woman to the merrily dancing flames. They were the only cheerful thing—or rather, phenomenon—in this gloomy, sorrowful village. There was something magical about the flames… something that drew the young elf. If not for the elder’s presence, she would have jumped up and approached the warmth and light.
— “My story…” — she murmured, almost inaudibly, and the wind that momentarily swept into the tent carried her words into the world.
The history of Esteln was a taboo for her, due to the events she had endured. Staring into the flames, she fell into a trance, allowing memories to flood her mind. Each thought was like a hundred-mile boulder she was forced to carry on her back. After a long moment of reflection, she shifted her gaze to her companion.
— “I am Luna Esteln, the last of the Esteln line,” — she began, her soft and subtle voice echoing faintly within the canvas shelter. — “For centuries, my family were guardians of knowledge and the mysteries of the stars. We studied them, uncovered their wisdom, and our name was respected among both humans and elves. But… such knowledge bred envy. And envy brought our downfall.”
Another pause followed her words, accompanied by silence. Beyond the thin walls, the sounds of animals brave enough to dwell in such a place could be faintly heard. Courtesy compelled the elf to continue her tale.
— “Ten years ago, my home was destroyed, and my parents were betrayed by those they considered friends. I remember the flames that consumed everything I knew and loved. My mother sacrificed her life to save me. Her final words were a plea to find something she called the greatest treasure. Despite the many uncertainties, I resolved to honor her will,” — she said.
She could still recall the day when, after the fire, she held her mother’s charred body. Her skin was burnt and scorched in places, and her clothes were almost entirely gone. The deceased woman was covered only by nearly incinerated scraps of fabric. The despair she felt that day remained an unforgettable emotion. Much more had happened to her since. Numerous torments had shaped her character and her disdain for the universe and humanity.
— “From that day on, I have wandered the world, searching for what was entrusted to me. I come and go, and my journey has no end. Today, I am here, but tomorrow, I will be gone. Such is my fate.”
After finishing her story, she lingered, staring at the features and eyes of the old woman, which seemed to be a mirror of her soul. It was as though she sought in them words of support or comfort, which she desperately needed at that moment.
— “Tell me, why were you expecting me?” — she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and sorrow as she addressed the elder.
