Lanu does not know where they were born, nor does he have any memory of his family (if they're even alive, given his age). His earliest memory was one of travel - walking from place to place, earning coin doing odd jobs and making temporary acquaintances. He has heard of tales of empires rising and falling - and occasionally as he returns to a city he's visited before, it's entirely different from how he last remembered it. Far from his kin, he's visited Salvo more times than he can count - he just has a strange attachment to the chaos of that land. Every time he visits there's some new conflict or wide-sweeping change that has altered the town entirely. Though he's never been involved in any of the wars, he's most recently arrived shortly after the Horde-Salvian War where Salvo gained independence and is debating putting up permanent roots now that most of the tumult has died down.
He's only known travel his whole life, and has only recently realized he may be wasting the time he has alive by living simply and roaming. Perhaps something more permanent is possible. Maybe there's more than just living.
The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”
((How does your character respond? Please ensure your response is at least six sentences long, and uses at least two actions.))
Lanu is no stranger to meeting odd people in odd towns; at this point it's become a rite of passage into an unfamiliar town, if anything. He slides over to the chair and lays hit kit down on the table between himself and the elderly woman facing him. "Yto Ska’at tul naab xye keok, yto lyn rentu xygek. I come from nowhere, and hope of nothing," he says, turning his head to look around at the home he intruded. "I believe that the only result of hoping is solely to disappoint, and I am not one to bring disappointment." On the surface, this statement seems like a braggart's boast, but it's rather a statement of his apathy towards self fulfillment. His voice is matter-of-fact and educated, but does not ring wise - perhaps unfocused. He tilts his head the other direction to get a better look at the rest of the room. "Who's asking?"
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