Harold Bearbaker

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?)) Harold Bearbaker stepped back in shock as he was startled by the old hag. "You must be mistaken woman! I've never seen you before in all my life." The old hag chuckles and repeats her question. "Tell me your story." Harold Bearbaker looked at the hag with suspicion in his gaze. "That's really all you want from me? Just my story?" said Harold. The old hag nodded her head and smiled showing a mouth of rotten yellow teeth. "Well there really isn't much to say i'm afraid." continued Harold. "I'm not some foreign royal or knight nor a wealthy merchant. I'm a rogue craftsman looking for work and fro permanent residence. My talent for smithing and forging is immense but I have yet to find a worthy settlement to share my craft with. My name is Harold. Harold Bearbaker. You will remember that name. I will be the greatest craftsman this land has ever known." Harold closed his eyes as if he was fantasizing about the future. "I will finally find purpose in this mystery of life..." The old hag chuckled once more. "Quite ambitious you are Harold." She stood up and looked Harold dead in his eyes. "I will remember you. I remember everyone." Harold was a bit frightened of the woman and he politely excused himself and exited the old hag's tent.

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?)) Example: I sit down in the tent and turn to the old hag. “My story is short and not so sweet I’m afraid. I was born a peasant and grew up on the streets stealing and begging to get by. As time went on, I found that I had a natural talent for making things. Specifically armor and weaponry. I couldn’t find work as a craftsman back home because everyone knew that I was just a lowly peasant and didn’t stop to think about the talent I possessed. I came here to try to find work as a craftsman and put my talent to use. That is my story.”

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?)) Example: (delete this) "I come from a land far away across the seas. I have been searching for a place to settle down and open up a blacksmith shop. Forging weaponry and armor is all I know and I have dedicated my life to it. IS there a need for a smith in this fine town?"