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?))
You chuckle softly as you settle into your seat. "Well," you begin with a hint of a smile, "I have quite the story, though I doubt it's anything you haven't heard before.”
"My life was fairly ordinary until I turned fourteen. My father was a respected blacksmith in our village, running a modest shop in the town center. I used to help him at the forge, learning the trade and enjoying the warmth of the fire.”
"Then, one cold night, everything changed. Our village was raided by bandits. They stole everything we owned, killed my parents, and burned our home to the ground. My father had a small hidden cellar beneath the floorboards of our shop where he hid valuable merchandise. His final act was to hide me there, saving my life.”
"When I finally emerged, the place I once called home was nothing but a charred wasteland. I wandered for three days without food or water until I stumbled upon a traveling inn. The innkeeper, a kind soul, took me in. He taught me many valuable things—how to wield a sword, live off the land, and survive in a world that had taken everything from me.”
"When I turned nineteen, I decided it was time to leave the inn and forge my own path. Since then, I've been traveling, listening to stories, and taking on odd jobs wherever I go."
