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.”
((How do you respond?))
Reinhardt explodes in laughter, his deep, masculine voice echoing in the room. "Of course you have," He shouts, "I am the last warrior of the Romund Clan. My family's ancestors have overcome hundreds of battles of old." He then raises his finger to the hag with a suddenly firm eye. "But. Even though I may be the last of my clan. You will not find me too eager to join them before my glory has come."
He then stridely approaches the hag. Towering over her with both hands on his waist. He slouches down to meet her eyes, their faces inches apart. "Tell you my story, you say?"
"Well let me tell you then." He strokes the thick, blonde stache on his lip. "The story of Reinhardt von Romund." He says proudly,
"When I first became a man at the age of sixteen, I had fought my tenth battle by then. I remember the smells of blood tainting the fields I fought in. I hear the songs of screams of my enemies echoing in the night." Reinhardt breaks into laughter again as he reminisces. "Oh, but the taste of glory. Makes it all worthwhile."
He then grits his teeth, "It was when I was twenty that I had my first battle of great difficulty" He brushes a finger from the top of his large scar streaking across his left eye to its bottom. "That's when I earned this trophy." – "Facing six men alone, cornered against a tree, my sword hand bloodied; injured and my spare beaten longsword in the other." – "I persevered by tapping within, by drawing deep the strength of my ancestors, I breathed my last breath and grinned before the strength of my rage consumed me. After, I opened my eyes, and the fight had already concluded, standing above the mangled corpses, baptized in blood."
"I realized at that moment that I was blessed to be alive, blessed to have been gifted a second chance, as if being born again." He sighed, "I fought less battles then. But those raging embers, and the bottomless appetite for glory within me still remain. Waiting. For a spark." "I seek for that spark." He grins quietly as his resting hand then white-knuckles the hilt of his sword.
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