xluciferschild

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.” Apprehension dawns on Zephyra's face as she hesitates to follow the woman's orders. She begins to glance around the tent, acknowledging the years of clutter over the tables and shelving, covered in a layer of light dust, reminiscent of back home. Whilst her curiosity confuses the other woman, Zephrya's ears keen to the whispers of the tent and its inhabitants, revealing no lurking danger if she were to follow the given orders. Zephrya circles back to the cushion, dropping herself onto the plushness whilst dragging the drape of her dress to cover herself under the candles' light. A slight head tilt at the woman confirms the acknowledgement she can begin speaking her story. ''My name is Zephyra Nix; a wandering archer from a small village. I grew up with my mother in the apothecary whilst raising my little brother, teaching myself to hunt and provide under the moon's refuge. I come seeking a new life, for reasons only the Aspects with understand. I wish to be of no problem at your hand whilst I pass through your village." Zephyra finishes, her tongue sweeping her lips, highlighted by the flickering of the candles' flame above her. She then glances back at the women sitting at the back of the tent, awaiting her next words......