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.”
Hiraeth Nightswift steps forward, his trench-hooded coat shifting over layered leather and metal armor. The candlelight flickers off his engraved chest plate, his hazel eyes studying the hag with quiet intensity.
“You’ve been expecting me?” His voice is low, edged with caution. He lowers himself onto the cushion, gloved fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.
“If you know who I am, then you know my story is not given freely.” Shadows dance across his ashen purple hair as he leans in slightly. “So tell me—what is it you truly want to know?”
Once heir to The House of Nightswift, Hiraeth was trained as a knight but drawn to the shadows. His world shattered when his family was betrayed, their keep burned, and their warriors slain. Barely escaping, he abandoned his past, becoming a rogue mercenary hunting those responsible.
Yet vengeance alone is not enough. Hiraeth seeks to rebuild what was lost—not just his house, but a new order of warriors who walk between honor and shadow. A brotherhood bound by loyalty, not blood. Until then, he moves steadily, carving his legend in silence.
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