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?))
"Hello there! The name's Arofyr." He said while seating himself on the cushion. "Well there's nothing else to do in this place. Although I pray you won't be bored by my tale..." Arofyr sighed.
I suppose my story began in my early childhood. You see, I look very little like my mother and even less like my father. So as I grew my father became more and more suspicious of my mothers... faithfullness. Long story short he discovered her affair with another man in our village and word gets around in such small villages like that one. The discrimination my mother and I faced (wether she deserved it is up for debate) eventually cause us to flee the village. Wandering from town to town, fighting dogs (and people) for scraps, we eventually headed towards White Spire. Living in intense poverty my mother's selfish nature reared it's ugly head." He said grimacing.
"She abandoned me without a second thought. With no work presenting itself to me I began to travel the lands once again, eventually ending up hear in this 'dingy town'. " Arofyr looked sullen as he spoke.
"Enough about me however, what about your story..."
