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.” Zero Tolerance#2940
(asking permission for other screenshot currently. otherwise below will be changed to a different lastname/bloodline | updating soon). ((How do you respond?)) The soot and smoke thinly rises from the candle, as I tread reluctantly towards the seat. I sat there for a minute to think. I looked up at the hag. “My story aye?” I scratched my beard. “I am an honorable Dwedmar, tenth generation bloodline of the Irongut. I never saw my father much, as he was always away for political reasons. I was mostly fueled with the desire of gold and riches, but what fueled me the most was sitting around my fathers smithy. I loved to create things.” The sight of flames and the banging of metal replayed throughout my head. “One day I left home from my rich household and sheltered myself in a community underground in search of materials so that one day I could create something spectacular, legendary!” My face suddenly changed fiercely. “But then those thugs!” I hit my leg with my fist clenched. “They tricked us by acting all friendly! Then while our guards were down, they drugged us and forced us to relocate and work for their little camp, building weapons and houses all chained up like a captured animal! Unforgivable. It took half a year til help came, soldiers shutting down those good for nothing barbarians. Breaking away from our chains my fellow comrades and I ran to the outreach of the camp where we were kept as the raid continued. I took a sword I made and cherished along with me. Being chained up made me realize how unprogressive I’ve been with my life. I wanted to become more and be more and create more! So I started walking away from the outreach. Then two High Elves appeared before me. A Father and his daughter.” I began to smirk happily. “These Elves were from the noble family Tathvir. The father was in a slumber with amnesia trying to find out more about his past and the daughter is now traveling with him to learn more about his fathers bloodline, the ‘Snow Elves’. They both have a goal. The Father saws the weapon I created and it piqued his interest. He took me by the collar and lifted me up. He told me to join him on an adventure.” I began to laugh. “It was my chance to look for ways to improve my skills and myself as a person. A chance to improve myself and create legends. So I agreed and I went, although he started walking saying how I am his friend now before I agreed anyways.” The old hag smiled.
