Kurothryn, now going as "Kuro", was born in the capital of Haelun’or. He never knew his biological parents, and they didn’t want to know him. His mother was an High elf who made a terrible mistake by sleeping with a Dark elf, resulting in something High elves disdained; a mixed child. And his mixed race was made clear by his dark hair, even if it has white chunks of strands.
All Kuro knows is that one day, he was dropped off at a random orphanage's porch, without a name or background. He was soon taken in by an old elven man; a retired swordsman who now owned a farm on the outskirts of the city. There, his adoptive father raised him, teaching him how to help on the farm and in their free time, how to wield a sword. The years passed and Kurothryn grew from a scrawny boy into a man. His body grew, and so did his skills with his sword. He was living a good life.
Until his father grew terribly sick. Medicine was expensive, and Kurothryn had to go into the city---stealing anything he could. Whether it be food, money, or the medicine his father so desperately needed. Though he managed to keep it up for a few months, his thieving lifestyle didn't last long. After attempting a larger heist, he was caught and imprisoned; for an entire year. And when released, he rushed home to the farm, only to find his father had passed during the time he was gone. That broke Kurothryn.
He couldn't bring himself to stay at the farm any longer, so he sold everything on the land, and the land itself. All Kuro kept was his father's sword. Then he left, spending the next years of his life as a traveling mercenary; taking all sorts of odd jobs. From protecting nobles during their travels to killing criminals with bounties on their heads.
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.))
Kurothryn fell silent, slowly turning to fully face the old crow. He didn't recognize her. So why did she recognize him? Does she know him? Or perhaps . . she's just gotten a strong case of dementia. Clearing his throat, "I don't speak of my past with strangers. I'm a mere mercenary," he began, his deep voice speaking with a tone of detachment. With of course, a hint of annoyance. He didn't enjoy wasting his time. "So unless you have money to pay and a job for me to do, I suggest you leave me alone." His tone left no room for argument.
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