gabe_man34

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?))

Nikias would look around the tent suspiciously for a long moment, taking in his surroundings but always keeping a slight view on the old woman. Satisfied with his brief search, he would turn back to her and begin speaking in a hushed tone. "I am Nikias Aetos. Son of Lysander Aetos and Acantha Aetos. My father thrust a spear into my hands at the age of 8 and a sword at the age of 9. My mother began drilling tactics into me at the age of 12. Both have recently died, and it is now my duty to bring honor to my family's name. I have heard that you can help me achieve my ambitions."