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”
i was a Highlander from a village nestled deep in the mountains, far removed from the current location. Combat was a way of life there, a necessary skill for survival. Erik had started training at the age of 10, learning to wield a sword and defend himself.
Erik: (Sighs softly) "A small town... far to the north. In the highlands."
He remembered his master's words, "Always be ready, Erik, the world doesn't wait for anyone." Erik became a skilled warrior by the age of 17. He knew it was time to move on to find his own path after feeling he was ready.
Hag: "Seventeen you say? "That's quite young to be out on your own. What made you leave?"
Erik stood and faced the traveler to show his broad shoulders, a sign of hard work and dedication. "It was time," Erik said, holding his head high. "I needed to make my own way. I am Erik Stormborn, and destiny awaits."
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