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?))
"Me? uh... okay..." Daya sits on the cushion, his face showing confusion and a hesitation, "Uh... well... My name is Daya, son of Tolin. And well... there's not much to say..." Daya scratches his head and thinks in silence for a moment, "Just another blacksmith from the mountains. Used to think that’d be enough for me... a forge, a roof, and a warm fire beside someone I loved. Aye… I had that once.” Daya's eyes flicker with something between regret and fondness.
“Her name was Inra. Woods dwarf, loud as a goat and twice as stubborn. Never met a soul like her, fearless, that one. She’d chase beetles for fun and scold me for flinching at ‘em. Said life was too short to fear the small things. I suppose she was right.” Daya lets out a dry chuckle.
"Have you ever been Married? I don't even know how it happened, truly, it feels like we known each-other for forever and one day she just popped the question, i think everyone just assumed we were meant to be together since we stayed friends for years but maybe i was too oblivious... She was full of surprises, at the moment it felt like there was nothing else to do but to say yes... we were wed, for a time. Thought we would grow old and in peace, just me everyday at the forge and her helping me with deliveries and tending the shop." Daya's face grows tired.
" But life's cruel... I used to think If the time came i could protect her from anything, but, sickness took her from me like nothing... there's this feeling that i didn't ask enough, I didn't knew enough about her, I wish i was loud and stubborn and asked all the things i couldn't come up with before it happened. I don't even know if my dream was her dream, what if she would have liked to see the word? sometimes I wonder if I robbed her of that choice."
Daya stays quiet for a moment, deep in thought
"Every morning I still catch myself looking at the door… thinking maybe today I’ll walk through it. Maybe I’ll make something of the life she left behind. Help others, see what’s beyond the mountain. I'll never be as brave like Inra was but maybe i owe it to her? I guess that's what led me here... The world’s bigger than my grief. I'm not as young anymore but perhaps there's a place for me out there. People like her... who might need help."
Daya clears his throat and sits straight, rubbing his beard as if embarrassed for the display of emotion in front of a stranger. Confused about what made him feel comfortable enough to share such personal feelings.
“Now then… that’s my story. It might not seem like a grand and interesting story, but it’s mine and is not over."
