Ozanhide

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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.”

"You've been expecting me?" He sounds like a stutter, albeit briefly. He eyes the crone, unwilling to take another step into. Gazed on by the natives, he is unsettled. "I don't know how you've been expecting me, goodwife; but not even these damn roads could bring me to this village. I'm lost!" The hag cackles like a woodpecker, finding humour in the lad. "I have seen far beyond the sight of the sightful, divined you'd be sent here. O lad, to what avail, I wonder. You know of what I speak... a destiny to be made today." He so finally gave in. "You are truly the divining woman everyone speaks about... it's true, I need to, I wish to enter a realm of dreams. A realm of destiny, to be made."

Folkrad was born eighteen years ago, to an impoverished father, whose wife passed away almost immediately. His family was rather isolated due to their appearance, and they didn't exactly know of their Adunian ancestry, for they were thoroughly assimilated, but they weren't persecuted for that. His father was a hunstman, member of the local militia, but not a dishonourable man. As a family, they were from Reinmar. During the small conflicts throughout the realm, the local landholders changed hands, of which von Entgold family was used to. But during one of these conquests, the new lord declared his father a poacher due to his inaction about the change of lordship. In front of Folkrad, this new lord hanged the huntsman, Folkwini, and this broke the young man forever. Despite this act, the lord never forgot the face Folkrad shown him that day, and could never sleep easy due to his conscience. One day, he brought the young lad to his court, and had him exiled; transforming Folkrad that day, from a street orchin, to a wanderer who traveled across the land.