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?))
(I slightly altered the scenario to better fit the backstory of the friends im joining this server with.)
Althor enters the tent, gasping for breath, his shoulders heavy with the weight of a sack of rocks and a doll—both items insisted upon by his younger brother, Elowi. His pace slows as he approaches, the strain evident on his face. As he catches up to his brothers, he overhears Mazrin's voice offering an apology to the elderly woman inside the tent.
"Elowi, I told you to rid yourself of that damn doll." His voice is laced with a mixture of frustration and weariness. He turns his gaze to the elderly halfling woman, who appears to be in the midst of listening to his eldest brother recount their past.
"Forgive me, ma’am," Althor says with a faint smile and a small bow of his head. "Mazrin’s stories have a tendency to lull one to sleep. Allow me to offer a more... ahem... lively account of the events that truly transpired."
He shifts his weight, leaning against the tent pole for support as he steadies himself, the painful memories weighing heavily on his mind.
"It was a quiet night, the kind where the stars hung low in the sky, and the air was thick with the smell of warm earth and fresh bread. We had stolen some ale from the cellar, sharing it in our bedroom, the three of us brothers laughing like fools as we drank more than we should have. We heard a commotion outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of our mother’s scream echoing down the hall." Althor’s voice falters slightly, his words becoming heavier with emotion.
He wipes his face, a tear rolling down his left cheek as the memories resurface, too painful to bear.
With a shuddering breath, he turns away, unable to face the woman any longer.
"I shall save the rest for when our paths next cross," he says, his voice softer now, as if seeking to escape the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to drown him.
