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.”
((How do you respond?))
Xaiver takes a deep breath, his eyes clouded with memories. He hesitates for a moment before speaking, his voice shaking slightly.
"Well... it’s not easy to talk about, but I’ll tell you. I used to live in a small village with my family. We weren’t rich, but we were known for being the kindest folks there. Everyone always came to us for help when they needed it. But one day... everything changed. The orcs attacked. It was... it was chaos. I remember seeing blood everywhere, the sounds of screams... It was like a nightmare come to life."
His gaze drifts to the ground, the memory clearly weighing on him.
"I... I hid as fast as I could. I didn’t know what else to do. When I finally came out, there was nothing left. The village... the people... all gone. Nothing but ruins. I... I’ve been trying to figure out why they attacked, why my home was destroyed, and now... now I just want to make them pay. I want to know who did this and why, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get answers... and revenge."
Xaiver clenches his fists, the fire of determination flickering in his eyes.
"That's why I’m here. I won’t stop until I find out the truth."
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