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?))
Serlo peered into the tent, staring at the woman at the back as she motioned to the cushion. He spoke quietly, the journey in his past softening his voice with exhaustion. "My story?" He asked, half convinced the old lady was someone he should best avoid. Despite his better judgement, he moved forward, kneeling on the cushion, the partially-damp pillow offering a relief from the murky ground of the tent. "I'm afraid I've.. not much of a story to tell, just yet." Serlo stared at the space between them, littered with books, or scrolls. When it became apparent to him the woman wasn't going to give up, he sighed. Clenching his fists on his knees. He looked up.
"My story is a sad one. I've... been robbed of all I held dear." He stood, his knees damp from the pillow. "But the path I've traveled to avoid falling apart was a long one, and its a path that isn't over." He made for the tent's exit, before turning to face her again. "Once I have better news, if you're still alive by that time, I'll visit. Or you can visit me. We'll see." He offered a wave, before exiting the tent.
Serlo lost his family's honor the day he had to flee his home. Without honor, nor a home for himself, he intends to carve himself a new home into history, even at the cost of others. You can't lose honor if you have none left.
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