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.”
"I am a man, a soldier. Nothing more and nothing less." He coughs to clear his throat "I wish to wield a blade and defend what matters to me with honor and bring grace to those who I like." A brief silence as he stares for a moment. Then he continues "There is not much to know about me, I will write my story as I go, born into a poor family I was, and rise to the pinnacles I will."
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