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.”
Calista hesitated at the hag’s words, her plush frame stiff as she looked around the dim tent. Still, she lowered herself onto the cushion, fingers nervously twisting at the golden bangles that lined her wrist.
“My story?” She whispered, her voice soft and nervous, not the usual pride high elevens carried.
“I come from a family oriented house of elves. I-I mean they claim to be. My family… they're tall, proud, certain of who belongs in our family, just based on appearance and strength, and abilities. I-I don't think I've ever been like them.. not in strength, not in spirit. I was always too small, too quiet, too… unremarkable, I don't think I am even gifted like some.. maybe I'm too young to know.” She toyed with one of the many bracelets on her wrist, the metal clinking faintly in the heavy silence.
“I left because I am quite tired of trying to live up-to what they expect of me in our small family, and I want to live my own life.” Her voice grew smaller again, almost a whisper. “But.. I do not know if I can even live without them. I feel like such a pathetic elf, laughable.. even. I don't know how to live out here, how to fight, how to act.. how could such people handle me."
Calista paused, glancing down at her hands which were also covered in a few colorful rings. She then glanced back up. "I just need to find someone. Someone who may.. lead my way or.. someone to trust. Then I can find myself. Maybe learn to fight.. I do not know."
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