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?))
"How do you know who I am?" I ask tensing up and resting my hand on my knife, taking a step back in the process... I sigh, relieving some tension, and take a deep breath before saying, "My parents died when I was at a young age, which is why I have a fear of loss and tend to be a loner. I am untrustful of others and it takes a bit for someone to gain my trust. I do however want to help people who can't help themselves like what I needed when I was younger. I traveled a lot ever since my parents died. Through my travels I learned how to be stealthy, fire a crossbow with more than average accuracy, hand to hand combat, and how to track someone. I also trained my assassin-like skills and developed a mastery of knives on my travels. I can also fight with a dagger if I get into trouble. I am lacking in my swordsmanship skills however because I never understood the need for a sword. I've traveled so much it feels like i've traveled the entire world. Whenever I started to make friends they were killed, which is why it takes me so long to trust people... everyone who I get close to end up dead..." I pause for a moment to center myself before continuing, "So I learned to survive on my own and that's what i've been doing ever since."
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