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?)) "Well, I'm just travelling around-" He processes what the old hag just said. "My story? Oh my, I've been singing every other hero's stories and triumph that I almost forgot I had one. Well..." He puts his sack down, and looks around for a chair, finding an old wooden stool. He sits down and crosses his legs. "My story starts at a small forgotten town, named Everspeak. Kinda similar to this one, just... less moist. It was in a beautiful valley, with a forest surrounding it, and some nearby mountains, where most men of the town worked at. My family though, was different. My mother and father operated a tavern that was also an inn, that hosted said workers after a long day of work. The Eagle's Resort was its name. I spent most of my childhood there, learning from what my mother was teaching me and what stories and studies adventurers shared to a little lad like me. What amazed me however were not the knights with shining armor, the rogues brooding in the corners, or even the holy clerics that patched up their friends." He leans in closer. "I was amazed by the bards. The ones that would always try to convince my father to perform so their group can stay for free, the ones with lutes, flutes and so on. I'd always listen in to their songs, and walk up to their rooms to ask them about their instruments. Until one day, on my 16th birthday, when my parents bought me a guitar of my own." He grabs his guitar and starts plucking some strings. "I used to suck with this thing. But, 2 years of practice later, I became good. I knew this was the life for me." He retracts back to his chair. "So, on my 18th birthday, I left, with an adventuring group, to sing of their glory. We went to all sorts of towns, fighting, singing, all the good stuff. Eventually we parted ways, and I found the next group. And that was my life for a long time. I settled in the County of Vaska for a bit, you could say it's sort of my home away from home. Yam trying learn dialect, Ne? But, I wish to switch my life around. I wish to find lifelong companions, and make a legend of my own." He stands up and strikes a heroic pose, his scarf swaying in the breeze that flows through the cracks of the old wood. "But where do I begin?" He scratches his temple. "I'll travel back at home soon and see..."
