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?))
Keeping his eyes steady on the old hag, Casper knelt down on the cushion, "Bit quick to ask questions, huh?" He said in a half chuckle, "If we want to start from the very beginning, well.. I grew up in the mountains nearby Karosgrad with my father. He used to be a soldier, apparently a big deal, but now he spends his days hooked to the drink. I spent years fighting with that man, always trying to prove my worth to him through skill. Wasn't until my early teens I realized I was fighting a losin' battle and ran off to set my own purpose." Casper's lip curled into a flashy smile, "Started putting my talents to use and became a merc. It's been almost seven years but I've gotten a lot stronger since then. I always try to look for tougher opponents in my jobs, it's what I live for nowadays." Casper said, his thumb brushing over the hilt of his sword.
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