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.” "However you like." He sat on his knees and began to explain in a slow, tired voice. "I come from a lineage of warriors. My father was an honorable warrior, a hero. He always kept my brother in mind, and I always walked in my brother's shadow." His head slowly bent forward, "My mother never showed me the same amount of attention as she did my brother. When I was very young and living an outcast life in our town, we were attacked by orcs. To tell the truth, it made me a little happy. Everyone was trying to save their own lives. At that moment, dagger stabbed into my father's heart." My mother threw us into the stream in tears to save me and my brother. I don't know. I don't know where my brother is or even if he is alive, but there is one thing I know. I will appear before my brother and prove myself to him."
He stood up and said in a loud voice, "This town is the beginning of my journey. I will show him that I am stronger than my brother!
Now get out of my way, witch!”
