MorbidMart

You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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.” The smell of moss is the first thing to hit your senses. The pungent smell was as though you lifted a rock that rested along the edge of the river, grabbing hold of its smooth beaten surface and unearthed the long-forgotten world that was left untouched until you. The second, if you lingered long enough, was the chiming noise of hollowed bones clashing together. A warm welcome to the knee-jerking horrors that shamble towards you. Teshär, is simply described as a nest of hair decorated in oxidized brass trinkets with the occasional marsupial bone, framing a doe skull that masked their face. Their hunched frame slowly hobbles along as the sound of the many trinkets they found along their travels clanking and moving under the burgundy blanket they wrap their form in. Their clay and mud-stained hands grip tight to their foraged treasure, only loosening when there is more to pick up from the forest floor or when they find another wanderer to trade with along their journey. “Me?” The voice cracked out. It was odd. The overly friendly high pitched sound contrasted horribly with the hunched-over skull-faced mess before the hag. “Story? No, no! We do things right! No time for discourse! We trade bauble Before we trade words.” If their terms weren’t met the only thing the conversation would have were the angry screeches and clicks that came from now stomping elf. Thankfully, the old woman had enough good on her that this elf deemed ‘Tradeable good’ whether it be food, bones, or old clothes. All wonders that could be used formed into something new. “Good Good.” With a small crack of their back and a grunt, they slowly began to stand upright allowing the ‘Treasures’ they collected to fall to the floor. Rusted bent swords discarded by their owners, Disarmed animal taps, abandoned rings, or stashed away jewelry. Teshär could do nothing with these things, they couldn’t break them down further, or reuse them properly, but they knew others could. As they quickly divided their good along the floor, they finally broke the silence. “I wander the land, sleep where I need, and eat what I find. I live as I should. Find what I can and give back to people. The noble story, yes?” A snarky smile slowly revealed itself as their copper-hued eyes looked up at the old woman, their darken fingers knitting together.