GrimKahn

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?))

Tetsu tensed up, hand reaching for the sword at his side; but he paused. He had heard many stories of people such as the crone before him. Usually, every story where they were provoked ended... Poorly for the provoker. So too for ignoring whatever insights they wished to give.

So he sat down on the cushion. it was slightly soggy, but mostly comfortable. The Crone stared intently, waiting for a response. "What story would you have me tell?" Tetsu ventured carefully. It would be best to clarify things first, lest he speak out of turn or reveal something he didn't need to. The crone grinned and slapped her thigh "Your life story boy! Come on, out with it." Tetsu supposed this was as good as he was going to get. For a brief moment he glanced at the exit to the tent longingly, before reluctantly dragging his gaze back to the crone.

"Well, alright. It begins like this. On a completely normal day, a young boy was born to two loving farmers, who were neither rich nor impoverished. He grew up mostly normally for kids around his age, save for a single incident in his youth that he remembers with stark clarity. It was his first time butchering something, and his father was puzzled when he came back from work to find the quota not nearly finished. The boy was simply standing there, mesmerized, as the blood dripped down the table. The boy was taken off butchering duty after that.

All proceeded normally for a time after. The boy helped around the farm, stealing away whatever free time he could to spar and train at a local dojo. He had come to love the feeling of a training sword in his hands, especially when alone. It was as if the whole world faded away, and all he was left with was the motion, and the beautiful, morbid blade."

Tetsu paused.

"Before the boy could undergo those usual rituals villagers come up with to shuffle their youth into adulthood, war came to the country. The lords men rode into the village, blades gleaming at their sides. They demanded both grain and men, neither of which the village could give. They had to give it anyway. This was the first time the boy witnessed deadly force for the first time. A man had protested a bit to loudly, so the soldiers dragged him out to make an example of him. The first reaction the boy had was horror at seeing his neighbor killed. The second was an admiration of the colour his lifeblood made as its splattered onto the ground."

Tetsu paused again.

"It was a clear and gorgeous day. Their life, taken in one swift blow. Like a string suddenly snapping."

He shook his head before continuing.

"His father and older brother were drafted, and sent away. The boy would never see them again. His mother and him worked terribly hard to keep the farm going. But the soldiers demanded too much, and they were too few. Weakened by the work, his mother succumbed to an illness that they couldn't afford treatment for in wartime. After all of this, the boy was left alone in the world."

Tetsu shook his head, reaching for his waterskin. His throat was dry. Was that from the speech, or the story?

"What choice did he have but to flee? He didn't want to see what would happen if the soldiers did not receive their promised grain from him. And beside, the outside world seemed to call to him. What was waiting there, outside the quaint little village he grew up in?"

Tetsu took a swig from his waterskin.

"So that's how the boy fell in with local bandits. He jumped from outfit to outfit, acquiring a real sword along the way and sharpening his skills on how to use it. The first time he took a life was entirely unremarkable, simply running a caravan guard through in the back after he tried to run. The guards blood spilled out slowly, his corpse heavy on the ground. This was when the body realized there was an art to severing things."

Tetsu's eyes took on a faraway look for a moment, stuck in true reminiscence. 
"Eventually, then, I joined a very special group of brigands. It was known as the Blade Covenant. They did not harm the unresisting, and they tried to not take more than what was necessary. They were... Good. And they initiated me. It was their tradition to welcome someone new with a series of duels, having them spar until first blood. I took down 3 before I was humbled, and earned my first scar. We sharpened our skills upon each other after that, each of us seeking that fleeting martial enlightenment. The covenant was to reach that dream together, and to respect only strength of arms."

At this point in the story, Tetsu looked the crone dead in the eye, eyes almost bloodshot from intensity.

"Here is a piece of wisdom they taught me, that has now been engraved upon my soul. Never Hesitate. If there stands something in your way, you must cut it down swiftly."

The crone motioned for him to continue the story.

"Eventually our group was targeted by a big suppression force, and we met them in the field of battle, laughing and knee deep in blood. We bled them hard, but many of our members fell before they reached the end of their path. Or I suppose, they may have grasped it, right before death."

His eyes took on a far away, melancholic look.

"That thing, we were all searching for."

"In any case, we were routed, but not before gifting them such wounds that they had to take a while to regroup and rest. The group unanimously decided to scatter to the 4 winds; myself eventually being penned in near a port city. I took a ship to a strange, foreign land. Learning the tongue along the long voyage. The rest is.... Unimportant."

Tetsu raised an eyebrow at the crone. "Is this sufficient?"

"Mhmmmm...." The crone murmured. "More than sufficient."

"Will I be able to know for what purpose you have asked me this story?"

The crone considered for a moment, making an exaggerated show of cupping her chin. She made a long, dramatic pause.

"No."

Then she slapped her knee, cackled, and sent him on his way. The bright sun blinded him as he walked out of the tent, covering his eyes, he found the road he was treading again. He would keep walking it... until he found a proper place to shed blood once again.