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?))
Swallowing whatever pride he had left from his noble upbringing, Harlow slowly stepped forward, lowering himself onto the cushion carefully, caught between cautiousness and curiosity. Taking in a deep breath and slowly releasing, his baby blue eyes meeting with those of the hag. "I was born into privilage, House Greene to be exact, you've probably heard the name if not you've most likely been living under a rock." A self opinion of the name Greene, though narcissistic in Harlow's mind it was true, he voiced this opinion displaying defiance and also.....regret. My family were a family of merchants turned nobles, respected in court, bound by wealth and decorum.” He smirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. “I was meant to follow in their footsteps, marry well, uphold the family’s legacy. But that life was a cage, draped in velvet and gold...I wanted more, I wanted the thrill of the unknown, the clash of steel, the taste of freedom!" His expression darkened for a moment, as if recalling the sting of their last conversation. “When I refused an arranged marriage meant to solidify our standing, they gave me a choice, duty or exile.” He let out a soft chuckle. “And so, here I am. A noble by birth, a vagabond by choice.”
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