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?)) “Expecting me?” Kavre asks curiously, taking a seat. She glances around the hut before her eyes focus back on the hag. “Ah, my story… It’s nothing special, really. I grew up as an only child in Aaun. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I wanted to do.” She fidgets with her hands lightly. “Nowadays, I just work in the tavern. But… I want to be a knight, I believe.” Kavre’s hands are noticeably rough and calloused, unbefitting of a typical woman. “I want to protect this land I have grown in. I have worked in my spare time to know how to hold a sword, how to balance the weight of it and swing it with purpose. And now I want to wield it for the sake of my people. Mostly since the Heartlander Confederation has been formed.”
