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 hag weirds out, Joseph. Nevertheless, days of travel set in, and the cushion starts calling him. After getting seated, Joseph begins to tell his story. "I grew up in the frontier, which was a harsh life. I had to do a lot of hard labor. It wasn't until I turned 18 that I wanted to do more. So I went to the closest city, and I uh." Joseph starts to scratch his head, trying to remember what he did after entering the city. "Sorry, It's been so long since I was 18. I think I got a job as a bookkeeper or a Shopkeeper; either way, I know it didn't last long. About a year or two later, I joined up with the city guard. I took to it like a duck to water." Joseph smiles, remembering his good times with his fellow guards. Then he looks sour; he sighs heavily, leans forward, and says, "It was about four years ago when the city was under siege. When the attackers beached the walls, street fighting was brutal until we could push the back. The city was reduced to rubble, and the friends I made in the city guard were all dead." He straightens and finishes, "After that, I've been traveling ever since, looking for a place to call home."
