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?))
"Knowledge." I respond, adjusting my sword as I take the seat offered. "And I was told you have it. You asked for my story? That's why I'm here. You understand, right? The issue lies in that I have none. No history, no tradition, no family name to speak of. My mother, my father, they thought no need for these things. Yet it didn't stop them from facing whatever consequences the world had planned for them. I returned to our forest cabin one day as a child of fourteen and found them dead, yet the house had not been abandoned. An uncle that I had only ever heard of by name introduced himself, and explained he had received a letter from my father, begging him for aid. Obviously, he had been late. It was no fake... My lost relative had the same gray eyes as my father... and the letter bore his stamp. Yet the contents were bare of information. Just the desperate plea, and the request that I be taken care of, in the case of the worst. Well, the worst happened. My uncle raised me, taught me skills my father couldn't- or wouldn't. But yet, here I am. Still a bare slate. Revenge for my parents can only come after knowledge, but for what knowledge I lack, I have enough wisdom to know that my life cannot be wasted on it. I desire purpose. I desire a story. I desire a place in the known world."
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