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?))
Leoril Ulben ducked beneath the flap of the tattered tent, brushing damp strands of brown hair from his eyes as the stale scent of moss and smoke filled his nose. The candlelight flickered across the folds of canvas, dancing shadows that seemed almost alive. His green eyes adjusted slowly, only to find the withered figure of the hag staring directly at him.
Her words came sharp and unexpected: “Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit.”
Leoril hesitated, then lowered himself onto the cushion she indicated, resting his calloused hands across his knees. The old woman’s gaze lingered, heavy and knowing, and though her face was foreign, something in her tone made his chest tighten.
“My story?” Leoril murmured, his voice steady though his jaw clenched. He let out a breath, then began. “I am Leoril Ulben, son of Sarcraes Ulben. My father was a blacksmith, my mother tended our flock. A quiet life… until it was stolen from me.” His fingers curled into fists, nails biting against his palm.
He lifted his eyes toward the hag, the flickering light catching the green in them. “They were murdered. Not by bandits. Not by man.” He paused, searching for the words. “A beast of the Void. A student of the arcane confirmed it, though even he could not name what manner of horror it was. Only that it came from beyond.”
Leoril’s shoulders straightened, and though youth lingered in his face, grief had carved something older behind his eyes. “I took what I could from my father’s forge, though my swordsmanship is… unpolished. My strength lies in my build and speed — not yet in refined skill. Still, I will make them enough.”
He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “I’ve walked through cities of men, seeking scraps of knowledge about these Voidal terrors. I will not stop until I find the truth — and when I do, I will face the thing that took my parents. For them. For myself.”
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