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?)) She takes a half step back, glancing around to ensure there are no other threats before slowly stepping forward. She considers that striking at the hag would not be good for her health and so she sit. "Thank you... I suppose if you have a moment to spare..."
She took a moment to consider her words then continued, "I was travelling with my family when I decided to strike out on my own. There are many opportunities in these lands, and I heard the Commonwealth of Petra was close by."
She paused, tempting that there was no harm in telling this hag of her past. "My family comes from a house in the north, the name has been lost in my family now. During a great war in the histories, my great great grandsire took the opportunity to forge a new fate for my line. To remove ourselves from the tides of a shattered legacy, we took up the name Wynter. That has been the fate of my family since."
She shifts in her seat a little, looking over at the Hag as she continues. "I hope to seek out a new fate. Perhaps a knighthood, should my path lead me there..."
