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?))
"I was once a young lad my father wanted me to be strong, so I wanted to join my family's legacy and join the army and become what I'm destined to be." *He let out a brief sigh as he thought back to his family* "When leaving home I noticed my brother wasn't there to say goodbye. I asked, 'where are the soldiers that were meant to greet us'." *He quoted* " 'we're going to see them now' " *He answered with a frown* "Then we walked to a graveyard with full of old tombstone's, I read 'Grey Smith', My brother, dead from 1933-1967'." *He clenched is fist for a moment as angered surged through him* "I knew it was true and that day I knew I had to carry that weight with me forever. That's why I joined the army to make sure something like that never happens again and make others pay for not only his death but the others that had fallen before him".
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