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?)) Greeting woman, my name is Kyling, im just wandering through town. Shouldn't take much of your time.
(She then would insist on me giving my story)
My story? My story is simple. I come from the North. Born and raised a warrior, a path i did not choose but one that i fulfilled to the fullest. We fought many battles in the Highlands. We triumphed. Until we did not.
We were surpassed in force. I was the only one left of my battalion. This was but a lifetime ago, however I still can not take this armor off my shoulders. Im a new man now, devoted to the arts of healing others through herbs and enchantments. I've become a wanderer, looking to help whenever possible.
