UIOP651

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?)) The elderly woman had brought eeriness within the elven boy's midst, with his right hand starting to take hold of the hilt of his blade, which had remained within his sheath. "With all due respect. ." He paused mid-speech, gulping down some of his own nervousness. "I think I'll stand." Keeping his hand where it was, only firming his hold on his short sword's hilt. Having been caught off guard with such an encounter, the elf did his best to continue his rather short speech. "Apologies, I'm cautious. ." He states. "I'm a hunter's son, I've never happened to live in any region, been away from townsfolk for most of my life. Of course, I've been through some towns, bought some baked goods, and left." His eyes narrowed further onto the elderly woman, watching as she listened, only stopping in his words for a brief moment while his hand started to release from his short sword's hilt. "That could explain my cautiousness. . I'm not very used to the general folk. My mother and father, who thankfully are still alive have taught me most of what I know. That includes things such as. ." Then, he stopped within his speech again and took a second to think. "Hunting, skinning animals, some more hunting, and ah right. ." He continues with his sarcasm. "More hunting, with some more skinning. It gets boresome after a while, but it's a good thing to have learned. And if you just so happened to be wondering, we lived in a cabin. I got into some trouble and as a consequence, my father sent me out on my own, which leads up to now. Though I quite like it, it's peaceful, haven't had any bandit encounters yet." Finally, he became comfortable within the current situation and allowed his hand to retreat from his hilt, and allowed it to rest at his side. "Hope that was good enough, and.." He proceeds to ask; "Do you know where I can find some ale around this. . 'town'?"

A young boy born in trouble-free times, in a small village with fresh harvest blooming in the fields. As an only child, he had no siblings to look up to, only a loving mother and a hard working father. By the time he learned how to walk and talk, he was learning the basics of harvest and livestock. The village life was surprisingly very peaceful. The only trouble you’d find in a place like that, was the sheepdog getting out of the house, or a loose board in the fence which caused an animal to escape, only to be herded back by one of the farmers. By the age of 6, he got his hands on a fine, steel broadsword. He knew his parents disliked weapons, but his curiosity went to far and he snuck into the blacksmith’s weaponry. He never grasped a sword before, and it was awfully heavy for him as a young boy. He did this occasionally every night, just to admire the steel of the blade, or the markings on another weapon in the weaponry. Finally, when he was around 10 years old, he could finally hold the weapon perfectly. He went behind his parents’ back to train with it, considering they have such strong hatred for such weapons. As he grew up a bit more, around the age of 12 he ended up stealing one of the blacksmith’s weapons. He kept the broadsword harbored under his bed, until the blacksmith found out weeks later that one of the weapons were missing, as he realized this from his monthly stock check. His parents grew suspicious of him harboring such a weapon, and checked his quarters. The found the broadsword underneath his bed and ridiculed him, mentioning how Arthur went against everything they taught him. They viewed him as a disgrace. The forgiving blacksmith understood the young boy’s curiosity of such weapons, as his parents never let him hold one. He was kept away from the weapons, and continued on with the life of harvest, herding, and such ranch work. When he was about the age of 21, a nasty illness began spreading through the village. Tuberculosis, a disease impossible to cure, as it was a bacterial infection and not much could have been done about it. With Arthur losing his parents from such a horrible illness, along with several other close friends of his, he left. He was one of the only few survivors from the spreading disease. He heard of the land of Arcas, and began making his way there.