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?))
"Uh hello, how exactly do I know you?" He'd eye up chest that was full of riches, he'd focus on it being intrigued by it. "I'd be willing to share a story, but I want some of that over there. I guess I will begin at the start of my life 38 years ago. My name is Figrouk Gloommaster, my mom named after her dad who was a great warrior for my homelands. Therefore, throughout my childhood I always wanted to develop into such a great warrior like him. Instead of doing typical activities a child would do, I practiced fighting. I would pretend I was leading troops into a big siege just imagining the glory and feeling I would have after winning a battle. Once I became an adult, I transitioned into mining in order to support myself through changing times. I haven't really ever achieved my dreams because of me being so preoccupied with mining and being an adult. I sit here today wondering if I will ever live up to my dreams surpassing my grandfather's greatness. Everytime I think I could join the fighters, that same feeling where I believe I will lose wealth and become even more of a disappointment looms over me. Will I ever be a soldier, that's for me to see in my future..."
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