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.”
Thomas would slide over towards a nearby seat to tell his tale as the woman at the back of the tent instructed, before getting to tell anything he would breathe in and take a look at the surroundings as it looked familiar to him but slightly not. He would sigh, "The story of a small lifetime compared to others, shortly after I was born myself and my brother were abandoned at birth and then once again shortly adopted by a family with the last name of Ullas". He would take a quick minute intermission, looking off to the distance and then focusing back up, continuing to tell his tale "The family was quite nice, feeding me and my brother as well as new brothers taking me in as their own even though I was different in skin pigment. My father taught be how to use the sword and defend myself against those that might try to kill me as-well as basic survivor skills. Now from learning all of those skills I go on to live as a Mercenary taking odd jobs to make my living and live up to the Ullas name." After finishing his tail, he would cough and then speak up saying "Now... do you have any ale around?" Asking with a huge grin on his face.
