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?))
A Ragged man enters the tent, he had with him pieces of scraps or scavenged equipment that were worned out, although young, he did seemed as if he was aged from hiw weariness and fatigue. He took a deep sigh as he entered and sat across from her as he placed his knapsack down next to him, with the candle being the only thing between the two of them. As he sat looking at her readying himself to tell her his story, "My name is Rulf Bypharrk... I don't have much to share about myself, I've effectively become a nomad after scrounging up lost, but serviceable equipment throughout my journey. I've not much to my name and I... don't have anyone, no friends no family who can help me... not after I decided to leave for my own selfish reasons." He ponders on what else he could maybe share with her... maybe something from his childhood or maybe something from his adoloscent days? "I was born to a family in a small village of Waldenia, we own a small bakery and I would help the family business when I was young. Not just that, but I was also a part of a Militia to keep the village safe during our rotations. Overall, I had a very stable, yet humble life. It's just... at the time I desired more in what life has to offer..." He said to her with a hint of angst in mis voice, a bit embarassed, as he scratched the back of his head around my nape as he steeled his nerves to explain further... "When a group of adventurers and mercenaries passed by, I would over hear their stories of adventure and grandeur, it inspired me to break free from the mundane and strike out on my own. I was a part of a militia and I thought I was capable even if my training was minimal. Overall the prospects seemed promising and even exciting too. So that's when I decided to leave everything behind at the age of 19 and began my own daring adventure." At this point it's just painful silence as he looked to the hag, seeing no visible reaction or response... the awkwardness is really hurting me, but it's not as if he'll lose anything by just sharing his "self pity" story. "At first I thought I could make it big somewhere, but I've not seen any success in this venture and I've become weary as the day and nights go on my lonesome... I wish I can go back to a more peaceful and comforting life like I used to back then, it's been about 7 years already and somhow I'm still alive, but now it just feels like nothing in the world matters anymore but my own safety and survival." It was at this point, he felt bits of tears welling up and he can feel something in his throat as he loses a bit of his composure explaining himself, "Gods I feel pathetic right now..." he thought to himself, wiping his tears and hoped that the hag could only assumed he wiped his sweat as he buried his face into his arm before continuing. "I just wish whatever gods out there will hear my plea for help and grant me peace that I so sought for in these grim dark times... maybe new friends and companinons who will assist me on my journey through... maybe something to believe or fight for even...?" he regains his composure and this time, he looked right into hag's face with as much conviction he could muster within... "If one thing is to be sure... if my death is inevitable, I'd like to have some meaning to my life, even if it may seem small or insignificant. If I'm lucky enough, then maybe... just maybe I can live peacefully." He said proudly awaiting a response from the hag.
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