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?))
The dark elf steps into the dim tent, his sharp gaze briefly taking in the floating candles and their flickering light. His long, sleek hair cascades over his shoulders, slightly damp from the swamp's heavy air. He meets the hag's knowing eyes with an unreadable expression, his deep charcoal gray skin seeming to absorb the soft glow of the room.
At her invitation, he moves silently, his boots making no sound on the damp ground, and lowers himself onto the cushion. His movements are deliberate, controlled, exuding an air of quiet confidence.
"My story?" he repeats, his voice low and smooth, carrying a faint trace of an accent from the subterranean cities. "If you know enough to expect me, then you know my story is not freely given."
He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his piercing gaze fixed on the hag. "But I will offer you this—I've traveled far from the shadows I was born into, drawn here by whispers of something... significant. If you've been waiting for me, then perhaps you know why."
