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?))
Discene sat down stiffly, legs crossed. "Well, I've mostly just been wandering around since I turned eighteen. If you've heard then you know most Dark Elf settlments have been... Questionably stable, so when my birthday rolled around they sent me off to find somewhere stable. Safe." Discene fidgeted with the strings sticking out of the hem of his shorts. "Uh, before all that my life was pretty nice. My parents are Ramasarian, tracing back to Ramasar kind. Was never a huge fan of the purity, but it was nice. We had a garden and a cat. Well, still do, but... Yeah, haven't seen them in a bit, heh." He stared at the ground and paused for a moment. "Yeah, that's about it, looking for a place to live stabely, maybe a city. If not that a village or the woods. Oh, right, village, thats why I came here." He stood back up. "I hope that was sufficent backstory, but I think the Inn is about to close and I don't want to sleep outside again." Discene chuckled. "I hope you have a good night!"
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