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?))
"Oh-.. Well, I come from a small, solitary village, that mainly brung pure-blood warriors to this world, they went by the name 'Raven-Cloaks', My father was the commander of the section.. And by that, he trained me for several years.. Until-.. The village was attacked, by a horde of goblins and Orcs, lead by a highlander dressed in a armored robe-like attire.. My father and the Cloaks fought.. The cloaks being killed.. as It as me and my father left to fight, heh.. We fought them, killing every orc and goblin... And eventually.. The highlander stepped in-.. My father faced him.. losing and being killed in pure brutality.. Then it was just me.. I was angry and terrified.. So I decided to fight him-.. Being defeated myself and spared.. as I watched him destroyed my home and village.." he chuckles awkwardly, as his eyes seemed to shine from tears, he continues. "I decided to adventure after that, hunting that highlander... Training with the blade and magic.. Roaming the lands.. Until I came upon this village, heh.. After this chat and some rest, I may leave and continue my hunt." A slight smile played on his face.

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