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.”
"Who...me?" The Inventor sighs. "This day keeps getting weirder and weirder..." He sits across from the crone. "I lost my memory long ago. Supposedly I lived in a large city alongside other friends and strong fighters. Somehow said city was attacked by an unidentified group, who, using magic, scattered many fighters across the world with no recollection of who they are." The Inventor sighs again. "Myself included." The old hag responded to him. "Ah, a survivor, I see. Tell me, how did you find out about this?" He looks down. "I woke up in the middle of nowhere months ago. I wandered around trying to stay alive, when I found a decently-sized village. One which had a library which contained a very important book." The Inventor pulls out a massive tome and shows it to the old woman. "A rather large history book, which details many significant events of the past. One stood out to me, almost as if it were something I had experienced long ago..." He stares off. The woman turns her head. "So what brings you into this old town? Not much goes on around here, you know." The Inventor looks back up to her. "Just passing through. I have a lead as to who may be responsible for these attacks. When I find them, I intend to..." The old crone looks puzzled. "Intend to?" He responds. "Of course, right now I have pretty crappy tools and armor, and I won't be able to do anything on my own. I must seek our these old friends of mine so we can try to hunt down this mysterious force together."
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