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 sit down at the cushion and nod at the old lady, "I'm Brant Lash, I was a farmer growing up in Adria but when the last war started my family was killed leaving me alone. I got tired of not being able to defend myself so I taught myself how to use a sword and learned I was good at it. Now I want to no longer be a peasant and want to become a Knight and Lord so that I can raise a family and live a good life until I die."
