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?)) *Rafael stands with chest-up confidence, and a deep booming voice* "Heh, of course its the hag" *The man rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath* "Well, I grew up not too far from here, small hut. My father, Mother, myself, and 4 siblings. Wasn't a great upbringing, but I made it through. My Father was once a swordsman, he an even larger man than I. I inherited his great sword, by god the heaviest thing I own. I grew up with him teaching me, but as he got older I could see his mental stability decreasing. Once, I made a mistake with the great sword, and before I could speak... he... he threw me on the ground and beat me half to death. Told me I wasn't worthy of the title as a swordsman. Later that night him and my mother got into a quarrel. Peeking through my door I saw a fist, and my mother.. she collapsed. Ever since I left on my own and have been craving making a name for myself as the strongest, most talented swordsman ever, though I am far from said dream."
