_Resurgent_

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?))

*Dimitreus takes a seat, he gets comfortable and gives a brief response: 
 

“I suppose I’ve lived a life shaped more by loss than by choice. I was young when it all changed. My parents... they died in an accident—so sudden, so cruel. No warning. It wasn’t something anyone could have predicted, but it set a fire in me, one that’s burned steady ever since. I was left alone in a world that didn’t care for orphans, not like they cared for the living. There was no room for sentiment in those days. You either learned to fend for yourself or became a ghost of the past.

I learned. I worked for those who needed it, did what was asked of me, no matter how small or menial the task. My hands became calloused from hard labor, and my mind sharpened from the necessity of survival. There was little room for weakness in that life. You couldn't afford to feel the sting of loss for too long, or else it would consume you. It was easier to work, to bury the pain in tasks that needed doing, in people who had needs I could fulfill.

Over the years, I did not remain in one place. I worked in various lands, under different lords and kings, lending my skills where they were required, and at times, even guiding the hands of those in power. As the years passed, I grew a reputation—not just as someone reliable, but as someone who knew how to navigate the delicate webs of politics and influence. The work allowed me to secure what some might call a business, though I never saw it as such. It was a way to offer services, a way to barter and trade knowledge for power. Through this, I gained wealth, and with that wealth came status—eventually, titles.

I spent much of my time in the courts of kings and queens, advising, managing, helping to keep the wheels of governance turning smoothly. With each new service, I gained more favor, more opportunities. Yet, none of it ever truly mattered. Titles, wealth—they were fleeting, like the wind in the trees. Nothing ever lasted in the way one hoped. Eventually, I grew tired of the politics, of the endless negotiations, the power struggles.

So, I returned. I thought perhaps this would be the end of it all—return to where it all began. Back to a simple place, away from the games of kings. But now, as I stand here, facing you, it seems that perhaps my journey is far from over. What brings me here... is just another step in a long road. Perhaps it is fate, or perhaps I am simply here because this town has a place for those who know how to survive the harshest of trials.

So, I suppose the question is—what will you make of it? And what will I find here in this swampy town, where the air hangs heavy with secrets?”