Krakatoa

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?)) *A confused scowl comes over my face, before giving a slight nod and taking the seat the Hag directed.* "And what pray tell are you expecting me for?", I say aloud.

Arnvuil was born to a moderately wealthy merchant family, within the Imperial City of Helena; the first act of this young man's life however quickly turned to tragedy, as at the age of 4 Arnvuil’s mother died of dysentery during an otherwise normal trading expedition. Fast forward to the age of 8 the medical conditions that plague this young man first appear and Arnvuil takes to fever periodically from this point on till the current day. In spite of this, the allure of history called to this young boy, tales of knights and trolls filled him with joy. Oft reading them by candlelight in what he prays would not become his deathbed, they were his comfort. Whenever it came time to receive a gift from his father seldom would Arnvuil not request another book to add to his collection. Due to the sudden onset of chronic illness, the completion of his education did not happen until the age of 26. After this Arnvuil began to assist his father full time in the running of the family trading business. As is the tradition in Arnvuil’s life at the age of 36 Arnvuil’s father died naturally, but Arnvuil lacked the business prowess to be successful in the vicious field that is free-market trade. From here on Arnvuil traveled around as a vagabond begging for food, or offering to teach people to read or on other esoteric subjects of the world history for a few coins. While not notably religious Arnvuil often dreams of what could have been if in his youth he used his love of lore, and history to join the Church of Cannon, and live out his life monostatic. His life now exists less in the reality of pestilence in which he dwells, and more in the fantasy in which his mind wanders, where will his wanderings take him next?