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.”
Edric stood at attention as he was picked out from afar. He shuffled inside and met the crone's gaze, shifting this way and that to settle on the aforementioned cushion - his bow knelt only meters away, leaning against a closed crate. Letting the warmth of the tent ease him into conversation, he took a moment to settle, answering softly, "My name is Edric, lady." He let his gloved hands warm, holding them out infront of the fire. "I have come from over the mountains of the east. It is the expectation of my kin to venture out to find one's manhood. I have journeyed for say- four months now".
The Elder bid him to continue, of which Edric obliged, happy to be out of the snows and the storms. "I mean to trek several more leagues to the west, and make common course with some landed knight or lord, and make a name for myself in his retinue". He spoke mostly-accurate, he did want to achieve fame, and in time glory, but most important was his health. The journey over the mountains had no doubt taken a toll on Edric which was all a part of the task, Edric considered carefully. "But I do not mean to depart for another few days, if that is alright with you. First, I will establish myself in this town, gather supplies, and see to any wayward quest I might find".
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