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.”
As soon as Naeron enters through the flaps of the tattered tent, he look around and studies the interior of the tent, along with its occupant, the old hag. Naeron squints his eyes at her suspiciously as she says her words with her coarse and tired voice, eventually taking a seat, cautiously. After getting a look at the old hag and her trinkets, he allows himself to relax on his seat and take out a flask of water, taking a hefty sip. As he wipes the water from his lips, he begins to speak to the old hag. "My story, gran? Don't you already know it? No? Very well, gran..."
Naeron begins to tell his tale and as he does, he takes out his sword along with a rag and a stone, cleaning and sharpening his blade during his story, to efficiently spend this time and to calm himself during his narration of his own story.
"I grew up in Numenost... Me and my family, my parents and elder sister, we had a humble little house in the city, close to the markets. I still remember the smell of the spices from all the different lands the merchants brought with themselves. I had a good childhood, anything a kid could wish for. But, the Creator had other plans for us. My life turned upside down in a single night when I was around 11 winters old."
Naeron hangs his head low now, focusing on his blade as he sharpens it. Occasionally looking over at the old hag as he retells his story, his eyes are ablaze as he does, as if the reflection of his tale appearing on his eyes.
"The flames and screams from that fateful night haunt me in my dreams, still. They told me they were brigands, after it all happened... These brigands, apperantly they were looking for a hideout inside the city, they were already hunted by the city guards at that point in time. So, they smashed through our door and nailed it shut, I remember them hitting me with a club and then carrying me to one of the smaller rooms, I blacked out then and as I did I heard the most horrible of screams, that of my mother. I suppose I should thank the Creator for sparing me from the most of it. By the time I woke up, I found myself outside of my house, it was burning down completely, along with my parents inside. My sister, thankfully, was not at home at the time. Those brigands were caught, though. Something must have went terribly wrong while I was out cold... "
Naeron sheathes his sword eventually after sharpening the blade enough. He continues to tell his story to the old hag, which seems to be swinging in her chair as she listens to him, mumbling things throughout.
"Me and my sister got separated a little bit after that... We were sent to different orphanages, and at that point it was the last I saw of my sister. To this day.
Being in an orphanage and of age, the orphanage chose my Trial of Profession for me, they sent me to learn how to fight... It was the perfect chance for a child like I was to fight on, become stronger. Ever since then, the Purifier guided me, and now, I seek to complete the Trial of Service and prove my worth to the kingdom, after it had done so much for me."
Naeron gets fired up with pride and raises a fist slightly above the table.
"Joining up with the Guard, that is my next step from here... Although, I do wish... To have a chance to look for my lost sister. Now... Tell me, gran, what have you seen? What does the Creator have in store for me?"
Naeron said as he lowered his head in a bow towards the old hag, he has finished telling his piece. He reclines back in the chair and looks at the old hag in anticipation of her next words.
