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?))
"Ahh another old hag." - I mutter under my breathe as I sit "Let's start from the beginning I grew up in the small settlement of Barrowton. I was in constant trouble for rough housing with the other kids at the time and was taught to fight at about 14 summers of age. At which point I began to train with proper weapons and hunting, through this time I continued to study Canonism. My studies kept my mind honed while my strength kept my sword sharp. At 17 summers I began to disobey the law again and started using my skills in banditing, stealing from others. I soon realized the law would catch up with me if I didn't turn it around now, so I began my studies again. I returned home and had considered enlisting but never bothered. After returning home for 3 summers, I decided this was no longer where I wanted to be. So I gathered my belongings and left Barrowton continuing my adventures to start anew.
