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?))
The young man sat down, with a glimps of mild discomfort on his face and startes telling his tale "I was born the second child and first-born son of family working at an estate of a noble family. From a young age, I was instructed in the arts of reading, writing, mathematics and other things, despite my commoner ancestry. Yet, my father, a man consumed by gambling. In his grief over his misfortune, he turned to intoxicating liquors and became violent towards both my sister and me, subjecting us to cruel mistreatment.
There was a great drought, which diminished the noble family's wealth, so they couldn't pay the serfs. This angered them, so to prevent rebellion, the nobleman organized a raid to kill the suspicious serfs and burn their houses. My father was one of them. My siblings and my mother were killed two and a soldier wounded my eye, leaving me with a permanent scar on my face.
In the years that followed, I wandered the lands, carrying the weight of my misfortune. It was during these travels that I encountered Bernard and Dolor Sitamet, two steadfast companions with whom I have since shared many journeys. Our bond remains unbroken, and they have proven their loyalty time and again.
Amidst these hardships, now into my 24th year, I have set my sights upon a singular goal: to master the mystic arts and become a wizard of great skill, fame and power. This aspiration has guided my path, even as I grapple with the bitter memories of the past. Though I strive for mastery in magic, I have not forgotten the grievous wrong done to my family by our former masters and I seek justice for these wicked acts" After finishing his story Vesturlöndum sat down and and there was a sinister light in his eyes, as if a wraith of the past had glittered in him.
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