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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?))
"I...I am Alexei Dragomir, as a child, I was raised far above the cusp of peasantry; my parents being far more than plain gentry" speaks Alexei, in a prideful voice, before changing tone to one of grief.
"One night...we were betrayed...and people came and burned our estate to the ground; in my cowardice, I ran away, and was forced to watch as the people I cared for most were taken away from me..." Alexei explains whilst looking down at his fur hat.
"I looked everywhere for some kind of record of what happened, or anything about my family, and I realized...my name was now a mark of persecution...so I changed it and sought refuge with the closest family I had...mere wheat farmers...they taught me the struggles of peasantry..." Alexei says in a quiet and subtle voice.
"After a few years, they had saved up enough minae to send me to a rather esteemed academy in Portoregne, where I learned history and geography, and excelled mainly in theology...now I, regaining my old name, am graduated and moving back to my homeland in the north" Alexei gestures to the snow-covered mountains on the horizon.
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