starsprLte

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.” "...Y-You know me?? Look, whatever you might've heard-" The knight flinches at his own tone, "...Ahem. Sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't be so quick to assume judgement. It's been a long day..." The knight bows politely before the old hag. "My name is Sir Theodore Wesley," As he speaks, his helmet slips off of his head, crashing onto his foot with a loud clank. "Aspiring knight- YEOWCH!!" Two long, pointed ears sprout from Sir Teddy's head of dark hair, flush from being stuck inside his helmet, with his face quickly reddening to match. Sir Teddy rushes to take a seat on the dingy cushion, his armor clanking awkwardly with each movement. There's a pregnant pause between the two, interrupted only by the sound of the poor helmet clinking sadly against the knight's knee. "...O-Oh, these?" He points to his ears, "I'm only an elf in theory, ma'am. Never met my parents, raised by halflings- You can tell from my name, right? Didn't even realize I was an elf for the longest time! Took til' puberty for these to grow in," He pulled lightly on one of his ears, "But my half-mom was more concerned with the growth spurt, you know how it is... N-Not that I'm assuming, or anything! Haha..." His awkward chuckling quickly dies out. "Ma'am, listen... I don't know what sorts of things you know about me, but..." He leans forward, his facial expression pleading for approval, "I promise to you that I'm a real knight. Sure, I might not have the status of nobility, but knighthood shouldn't be dictated based on your familial ties! Besides, I only strive to be a... personal knight, of sorts. Not beholden unto king or queen, but only unto one that truly desires my service. Regardless of race, gender, or creed." Sir Theodore shoves his helmet back onto his head, and holds out his hand. "Speaking of which, are you in need of a knight, my lady?" ... He had put his helmet on backwards.