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?)
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Runar glares at the hag curiously before abruptly plopping onto the withered cushion, Runar then says with a rough tone "I come from the far north, regions on the edge of the world. I was born into a family of farmers, who where then slain in raid when I was young. I'm lucky to have survived with the help of a clan of warriors, who then welcomed me into their heritage. After proving myself in the ways of war, I was gifted the responsibility of leadership. I thrived in wars, lived unbearable winters, and helped topple entire cities." Runar looks down and takes a moment to ponder. "Ah the glory days, before it all went scud. "I was exiled from my people." Runar stated with a sigh. "The Earl of the clan made a poor decision which was leading our clansmen into a trap and ultimately to their demise. Unwilling to yield his pride for the sake of our people I had to make an impossible decision. On one hand I could complete the task and let the majority of my clansmen perish. Or save the lives of my people by completely sabotaging the plan our clan spent decades perfecting." Runar scoffs as he gently shakes his head. "All of course without even explaining my actions, the Earl pinned this as my failure. A public disgrace, responsible for messing up the biggest invasion in the history of the clan. Saved all those people lives and they don't even know." Runar pauses for a moment. "So I guess I came here looking for a fresh beginning striped of all title and privilege, just a man making his way through a new world." Runar stops and props up in the ragged cushion taking a second to look around. "So, where can a man get drink in this wretched excuse for a town? I could do for a good mead."
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