Madera Montevarga

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?)) I pull out my sword as fast as I can and nervously take a defensive position. I hesitate for a moment before tightening my grip on the hilt and clearing my throat. "You've... been expecting me? No, no that can't be right. We all died in battle during the war. All of us... except for me. What could an old witch like you possibly want with a disgraced warrior like myself?" The old woman grins as she manifests a book and quill into her hands. She starts to laugh, opening the book and dipping her quill into some ink. "You see my dear boy, thats exactly what I wanted to hear! You shall tell me what really happened in the war. No falsehoods, no deception, no treachery. You will tell me the truth. In exchange, perhaps you may be able to see your fallen comrades once more. A witch makes no promises, but if I am satisfied with your tale then I'll consider granting you a chance of seeing them again." Upon hearing these words I trembled. My knees weakened and I fell to the ground, dropping the sword where my grip had loosened. "Th-thats impossible! No magic can bring back the dead..." The witch widened her eyes and she flew into a fit of laughter, nearly spilling her ink all over the book. "Who said anything about necromancy? You think too much, my child. You must experience magic to truly understand it. After all, actions speak louder than words, do they not?" She quietly uttered an incantation which unlit all of the candles. When they re-lit, I saw the faces of my brothers and sisters who were lost during those horrific five years of warfare. They only appeared for a moment, but deep within my psyche I could tell. Those weren't just illusions or projections, those were the souls of my comrades! With this, I was convinced. Taking a heavy breath I got back to my feet and picked up my sword, putting it back into its sheath. "Alright. We have a deal. I'll tell you about the war. But my story is not one of heroic legend nor villainous myth. It is a tale of life, death, and rebirth." The witch smirked with book and quill in hand. We gazed at each other with overflowing resolve...

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?)) I pull out my sword as fast as I can and nervously take a defensive position. I hesitate for a moment before tightening my grip on the hilt and clearing my throat. "You've... been expecting me? No, no that can't be right. We all died in the battle of Libertalia during the Great Pirate Wars. All of us... except for me. What could an old witch like you possibly want with a disgraced warrior like myself?" The old woman grins as she manifests a book and quill into her hands. She starts to laugh, opening the book and dipping her quill into some ink. "You see my dear boy, thats exactly what I wanted to hear! You shall tell me what really happened in Libertalia. No falsehoods, no deception, no treachery. You will tell me the truth. In exchange, perhaps you may be able to see your fallen comrades once more. A witch makes no promises, but if I am satisfied with your tale then I'll consider granting you a chance of seeing them again." Upon hearing these words I trembled. My knees weakened and I fell to the ground, dropping the sword where my grip had loosened. "Th-thats impossible! No magic can bring back the dead..." The witch widened her eyes and she flew into a fit of laughter, nearly spilling her ink all over the book. "Who said anything about necromancy? You think too much, my child. You must experience magic to truly understand it. After all, actions speak louder than words, do they not?" She quietly uttered an incantation which unlit all of the candles. When they re-lit, I saw the faces of my brothers and sisters who were lost during those horrific five years of warfare. They only appeared for a moment, but deep within my psyche I could tell. Those weren't just illusions or projections, those were the souls of my comrades! With this, I was convinced. Taking a heavy breath I got back to my feet and picked up my sword, putting it back into its sheath. "Alright. We have a deal. I'll tell you about Libertalia. But my story is not one of heroic legend nor villainous myth. It is a tale of life, death, and rebirth." The witch smirked with book and quill in hand. We gazed at each other with overflowing resolve.