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.” "Hello friend," He says with imperceivable suspicion. " I will tell you as you wish... But first, who are you?" They ask calmly, looking around the tent. As they silently pray that they would not have to kill again. And as the tent fills with cold dank air smelling of death he begins his story. "I was born and raised on Nevaehlen but was forced to leave. My father was tricked into selling his farm shares for fake Minas and was caught with them and Imprisoned." There is anger visible in his eyes as he continues his story. "My mother and I left the city and lived in the deep forests of the nearby lands... always hiding. But our momentary safety did not last as my mother was captured by bandits," his face is filled with pain as he tells of his mother's fate. "And I was left to survive on my own as a wanderer and an explorer." He finishes talking as a thick fog surrounds the town...
(I intentionally left some questions unanswered (you get to guess what may have happened to the foolish bandits who took my mother.))
