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?))
"Thank you" i proceed to sit on the cushion, i sit in a straight manner and place my hands on my legs. "My story might be a common one but it is my story noneoftheless, i come from a family of knights, or should i say we used to be. After some conspiracies took place my family was stripped of our knighthood and exiled out of Petra, i seek to regain my families honor with the skills bestowed upon me by my father who taught me all i know about the sword. I care not what i must do, who i must make enemies or who i must befriend. The house of Ikritz shall be allowed into petra again. That is my story. "
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