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.” ((How do you respond?))
Shia paused in the softly lit tent, her violet eyes narrowing slightly as she appraised the elderly woman in front of her. The hag's comments were unnerving yet strangely familiar, evoking the sense of fate that had governed Shia's turbulent life.
Shia said, "I come seeking understanding," in a voice full of pain and resilience. She sat on the cushion, her sleek, dark elf features contrasted with the rustic surroundings of the tent. "My parents abandoned me as a child, leaving me to fend for myself in the wilderness. It was there that I first saw a human, a visitor walking through the wilderness where I was alone."
Shia's fingers absently traced the intricate patterns on the cushion, a habit developed during years of seclusion and reflection. "The human took me under their wing and transported me to a kingdom unlike any I had ever seen. Tall spires and bustling streets, crowded with animals of all kinds—humans, elves, dwarves, and species whose names I couldn't pronounce."
Her eyes shifted to the candles, which hung eerily in the air, throwing flickering shadows on the tent's walls. "I lived with them, learning their traditions, dialects, and histories. I adapted, like a shadow disappearing into the night, absorbing the civilizations around me."
Shia's voice softened, with a tinge of amazement in her remarks. "During this voyage, I learned that understanding does not come solely from books or professors. It is found in the stories whispered between comrades and opponents, as well as in traditions passed down through centuries."
The old hag nodded slowly, her wrinkled features unreadable but approving. "You seek knowledge to bridge the gaps between worlds," she muttered, as if interpreting a secret embedded in Shia's story. "In this village of shadows and murmurs, you will discover more than you seek. But keep in mind, youngster, that knowledge is a double-edged sword—it can illuminate the route forward while also obscuring the truth in darkness."
Shia regarded the hag's gaze intently, the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future combining in that small, torn tent. "I will tread carefully," she pledged softly, her determination firm but tempered by the wisdom gained from her different experiences.
Shia began to narrate her story, one of abandonment, resilience, and an endless need for understanding that had led her to this fateful encounter in the midst of the marshy, gloomy village.
