Toxqel

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?)) You froze the moment the old hag spoke. Feeling your heart pound in your chest, the sound reaches your ears making you a bit dizzy. You take a look around looking at your surroundings to see if anyone, a single soul, was here in this tattered tent with y'all. The Dark elf kept looking, beckoning the old hag wasn't talking about them. Once you saw no one near… it took you 7 minutes to realize the hag was talking to YOU, but why? In one swift move you turned your gaze to her and pointed at yourself with a trembling finger and began to sweat like a fountain. "W-w-wait, me!?" Your voice high-pitched like a mouse, squeaky and annoying— It was filled with fear with a hint of curiosity in your tone while you stuttered. Soon you felt your body tense and trembled ever so slightly, you tried to swallow down your nervously, but soon felt it consumed you. Taking a stumble back— you quickly looked at the old hag taking in her appearance for a quick second before landing your eyes on the soft, dusty, yellow cushion she wanted you to sit on. You cringe at how it looked, wanting to clean it up or throw it far away from your view. Then another emotion hit you, now you wanted nothing more than to just run away from this place, but you stopped yourself, forced yourself to stay put as your mind clouded with different types of emotions; worried, confused, and curious and most of all curiosity got the better of you. You forced a small smile on your face and walked towards the yellow cushion like a stiff Nutcracker. In some way you found the situation oddly funny as you thought to yourself, "This is where my story began… In an old, tattered tent with an old hag, great…" You then put a finger on your chin and let out a giggle to yourself as you relaxed your body and think of what you've been through before ending up here. "At least she is not in fear of me like some town folks or this situation silly like the chicken stampede…" You were a bad luck charm to others, but not yourself every thought you feel like you were. Always traveling the world, always in difficult or dumb-funny crazy situations, meeting or seeing new things; overall, you're now here where your real story begins...

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?)) Annie froze the moment the old hag spoke. Feeling their heart pound in their chest the sound reaches their ears making them a bit dizzy. She took a look around her surroundings, seeing if anyone, a single soul, was here in this tattered tent with them. The Dark elf kept looking, praying the old hag wasn't talking about them. Once Annie saw no one near… it took her 7 minutes to realize the hag was talking to HER, but why? In one swift move she turned her gaze to the lady and pointed at herself with a trembling finger and began to sweat like a fountain. "W-w-wait, me!?" Her voice high-pitched like a mouse, squeaky and annoying— It was filled with fear with a hint of curiosity in her tone while she stuttered. Soon she felt her body tense and trembled ever so slightly, a part of her tried to swallow down her nerves, but soon felt it consumed her. Taking a stumble back— she quickly looked at the old hag taking in her appearance for a quick second before landing her eyes on the soft, dusty, yellow cushion she wanted her to sit on. Her cringe at how it looked, wanting to clean it up or throw it far away from her view. Then another emotion hit her. Now she wanted nothing more than to just run away from this place, but stopped herself, forced herself to stay put as her mind clouded with different types of emotions; worried, confused, and curious and most of all curiosity got the better of her. A small awkward smile formed on her face, walking towards the yellow cushion like a stiff Nutcracker– All of sudden Annie found the situation oddly funny in a way, she couldn't help but think to herself, “This is where my new story began… In an old, tattered tent with an old hag, great…” She then put a finger on her chin and let out a giggle to herself as she thought of what she'd been through before ending up here, “At least she is not in fear of me like some town folks, or this situation silly like the chicken stampede…” Annie was a bad luck charm to others, but not to herself every thought she felt like she was. She was a Traver, always traveling the world, always in difficult or dumb-funny, crazy situations, meeting or seeing new things or people; overall She’s now here where her real story began…

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 froze the moment she spoke. Feeling my heart pound in my chest the sound reached to my ears as they fletched. I looked around taking in my surroundings to see if anyone, a single soul, was here in this tattered tent with us. I kept looking until I saw no one, I'd slowly begun to realize she was talking to Me, but why? In one swift motion, I turned my gaze to her and pointed at myself with my trembling finger as I began to sweat. "W-Wait, me!?" My voice high-pitched and wary with a hint of curiosity in my tone as I stuttered, feeling my body tense and tremble ever so slightly I swallowed nervously taking a step back looking at her then at the chair she wanted me to sit in. I wanted to run to get away from this place, but forced myself to stay as my curiosity got the better of me. I forced a small smile on my face and walked towards the chair like a stiff Nutcracker. She found this oddly funny as she thought to herself, “This is where my story began… in a tattered tent, great…”