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.”
((How do you respond?))
"I am alone in this world." He begins.
"My name, at least the one I gave myself, is Nekrael.
This year marks my nineteenth birth, though I cannot remember a thing from before my eighth.
What happened before I can only imagine.
Ive taught myself to speak,
Ive taught myself to write,
Ive taught myself to fight.
Though, without ambition, a shell of a human, really.
Trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
My whole life, or what I remember of it, ive been wandering, never having any destination in mind, mindlessly drifing through the world."
"But this," He adds, "this is different.
Something drew me here."
He stare intensely into the Womans eyes
"You know me, you have something to do with this, dont you?"
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