ArisBun

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 in a mountainous elven enclave far from ancient forests, I grew up captivated by myths of deep woods and wild places. Though I'm not a forest elf, I found solace in every whisper of wind and whispering bird. When I was still young, my mother fell victim to my father’s sudden madness. In a moment of horror and disbelief, I watched him commit the unthinkable. Somehow, I escaped. That day shattered my innocence and left me with an unyielding vigilance. I can’t fully remember how I fled, I only remember the blood, my mother’s blank eyes, and a sense of irrevocable loss. I hide my trauma behind kindness and empathy, determined to prove I can heal rather than destroy. I like to nurture life by planting wildflowers, tending injured animals, and helping others as penance for being unable to stop the violence. Yet, I remain guarded, reluctant to fully trust. At night, guilt sneaks in, hidden in forest shadows. I seek to protect and restore nature wherever I travel and, deep down, I want to confront what my father’s madness represented; something that still haunts the land. There may be a lingering curse, a whispered spirit, or whispers of a cult that influenced him.