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DasOrakel

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  1. DasOrakel

    DasOrakel

    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.” "Oh, I just, uh…" I stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until I find the proper words to answer that question. “Let me consider where to begin my story. Oh… yes. I think I should start at the very beginning. sister left us when I was still at a very young age. I think I was three years old back then.” You make a short break and let the memories of your childhood pass. The tall trees, the smell of nature. “I’m sorry, where did I stop? … Right, I remember. As a child, I’ve always wondered what I should do and where I should go when I’m an adult. On my 19th birthday, I decided to go out into the world to explore its riches and gather more experience in my life. I left my family after the first 19 years of my life. I didn’t really have a plan in mind. I just went wherever my legs brought me. After some time, I can’t tell if it was months or years, I started doing jobs for other people. At first only small tasks, but eventually it became more and more. That was the time I decided to become a mercenary. The wage was meagre, but this fact wasn’t too important for me. Over the years I got more and more experienced. The sword was my best friend. It protected me all the time and kept me alive even in the most dangerous situations. In 21 years of being a mercenary, only one scar left permanently on my body, which is the one on my forehead. When I turned 50 years old, turning into an adult by our cultural means, I stopped doing jobs for others. I earned a bunch of money by that and concluded to begin with a calmer style of life. I bought residence near Talar’Nor and new clothes. From that point, I started exploring the world to see all the wonders I can find. And from time to time, I would come back home and enjoy the life I worked so hard for. Right now, I am on my way back to my parent’s place, the place I grew up in, for my cousins wedding.” “Well, well, well. That was more interesting than I thought it would be… Hey! I almost forgot! Someone that looks just like you left me this letter and told me to give it to you. Take it please.” I turn around one more time, take the letter, and leave the tent with the stuffy air. I go a few steps, then I stop to open the letter: >>My dearest brother, word has come to my ear that you have been traveling this region recently and I assumed you are heading towards sunset as I am currently. 4 days west of here I set up my camp so if you happen to be able, do your dearest elder sister the favour of gifting me a visit. ~Qilue Sal'amar<<
  2. DasOrakel

    DasOrakel

    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?)) Example: (delete this) "Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
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