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 was born beneath the canopies of the Emerald Veil, where the trees whisper secrets older than time itself. My people lived in harmony with the wilds, hidden from the greed of the outside world. We were hunters, guardians, shadows in the leaves. And I… I was meant to protect it."
She exhales slowly, fingers grazing the hilt of her sword.
"But peace is fragile. The outsiders came with fire and steel, seeking the riches buried in our land. Poachers, mercenaries, men who saw the forest as nothing more than something to be conquered. We fought. We bled. And when the last embers faded, the Veil was nothing but ashes. My people scattered like fallen leaves in the wind. My home… gone."
Her golden eyes flicker with something unreadable grief, perhaps, or the embers of vengeance.
"Now, I walk a path without a home, a blade without a sheath. I follow the whispers of the wind, searching for what remains of my kin… or those who would dare finish what they started. If fate guides me, then so be it. If it is vengeance, then let them tremble. Either way, my story is not over. Not yet."
She leans back, studying the person before her.
"So tell me, stranger… why have you been waiting for me?"
