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?)) Aleron shakes his head at the gesture, and remains standing. "I wish to know the stories of everyone, to let no tale go untold whether it is grand or small. Documentation is the key to advancement, and I strive to store as much information as possible for later generations to see," Aleron explains in an excited tone, leaning closer to the hag. "My parents wanted me to continue the family line and climb higher in status, but I decided against that as it does nothing except play into the game of physical wealth. Mental wealth, knowledge and stories, is much more valuable as it can be retained by many more people and benefit us all." "What have you written so far?" the old hag queried, leaning closer as Aleron took out a book titled Memories. "I have kept many stories in other books, but my pride is this," Aleron says flipping through the various pages full of stories and drawings. "This are my tales, exactly as I perceived them, without any third party involved corrupting the raw experience. People will know this is me and only me, and can learn from these stories as I did."
