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.”
Arlan tenses up at the question balling his fist for a mere second. He inspects the old woman for a moment, briefly curling his lips before opening his mouth to speak. "I suppose it could not hurt to tell an old woman.", he answers, before taking a seat on the cushion she had previously gestured at.
"To be fully honest, I do not know much about myself either. All that I really know at this point is that my name is Arlan - I can't even recall my surname anymore." The highlander sighed, before continuing, "It's been about a fortnight since I woke up in the middle of what must have been a mudslide hitting the wagon I was in. Aside from evidently having hit my head quite hard, I got away with a sprained leg - the others who must have been travelling with me weren't as fortunate."
The highlander looks at the ground as he stopped talking. A few second passes, before he goes on.
"Ever since I've been travelling by foot. I had a pouch filled adequately with coin, but I'm afraid it's almost depleted - it won't be long until I have to stay at some place to earn money," Arlan lightly taps a small pouch attached to his belt, creating a quiet clinking noise. "If you know of a place that would pay me for my services I would appreciate it a lot. Perhaps somewhere where they might know of my past and what life I led before two weeks ago."
"I heard talk about a place called Reinmar, not far from here. Could that perhaps be a stop to consider?"
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