Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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.”
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Alaric lowers himself onto the cushion, the worn fabric sighing beneath his weight. His tone is calm, measured.
"I am Alaric Morwyn. Born to a family of merchants, not too important, not too unimportant. But I trade linen for traveler’s robes, and life in wealth for dusty roads."
He glances around the tent, his eyes briefly tracing the flickering lights above.
"I'm a doctor, by old standards. Bone-setter, blood-stopper. But more than that - a herbalist, an apothecary. Alchemy interests me too, as a trade, so I hope to find a teacher. Not all ailments yield to prayers. Still, the world turns to magic more and more now. Why wait for tinctures to steep when a mage can wave the fever away?"
His gaze returns to the hag.
"So I wander, in search. There are still places where the old ways matter. Where my trade may still find some worth. I come to these lands seeking such a place. And if coin follows, I do not refuse it."
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