An outlaw... A hero... A legend! ...Is what he claims to be.
Before he was known across the desert as Jones, the Inept Loser; Elias was a quiet boy, raised within a small tribe on a tiny island. He had loving parents, but no friends his age, and a girl that didn't love him back. On the night of one particular ritual, celebrated once every half a century, heartbroken, he swam into the sea and never looked back, staring death into the eyes... before, by sheer luck, washing ashore the continent.
(Edit to Adria) Apleista, aside from its beaches, was a desert full of hollering bandits and men who struggled to make an honest living. But Jones, never one to follow the rules, grew up neither of the two. He wears his tall tales like a badge of his distant adventures, with lifelong friends, and a spirit never broken. Not even by his insomnia, or his manic addiction with putting his life on the line, for seemingly no reason.
To this day, he sails and yearns for more excitement, with nothing in the world to keep him still.
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.))
Jones pauses. He looks back at the entrance, then blinks again at the hag, and after a moment to recuperate, clears his throat.
"Well, hey there, kind lady! Me? I'm glad you asked!" He flares his arms, rolling his wrist in an attempt at a deep, elegant bow, "The name's Jones- just Jones! But I'm known by many names!"
He raises his head, and smiles at her with kind eyes, albeit, ones that betray how he hasn't slept in days, "The Lone Wolf Gunman, the Realmwalker, the Hero of the People; at your service! My reputation spreads far and wide-"
The hag coughs to interrupt his rambling, unimpressed. She already knows who he is. In turn, Jones stops talking, chuckles sheepishly, grins and scratches his head.
"...Uh, do you know where I can get something to eat...? I'm starving."
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