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?))
"Oh.. have you now?" I say after collecting myself, attempting to come off as confident. After a deep breath I start telling my story, "Well to start, I grew up in a middle class family in a small village. My father was the town blacksmith, and he owned his own shop. I grew up working with him, serving the people that passed through our village. It may sound boring, and it probably was, but I enjoyed my youth. Up until now, I'd never left my village, I had no reason to. Until one day, I was working in the shop selling our wares when a tall man walked in. He must have been over 6 feet tall, and covered in scars, even so he had this.. aura around him, like everywhere he went people couldn't help but watch him, myself included. What was it, his height? His scars? His long sword on his waist? Or his overarching confidence? Maybe it was all of these things. He approached me and asked for some work to be done on his sword, nothing special really, just some minor repairs, then he left. Since then, I knew what I wanted, I wanted to see the world, travel across the continent and see things I've never seen before." I let out a breath, "And now here I am, years later, starting to live my dream."
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