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?)) Johan sits on the ground, letting out a sigh of relief. He crosses his legs before straightening his posture once more. He then begins, "I have traveled from the Far North seeking more from life than survival. I expected difficulties from beasts and bandits, but the heat is what is the worst." He chuckles, amused by his own statement. "I was raised in the frozen mountains to the north, as was my mother, and her line as far back as we know. But my father came from the south. He raised me on tales of knights, of their honor and their gallantry. So, with my parents' blessings I have come south, to find my own honor and fame maybe as a knight or maybe in another way."
