Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
*bjorn takes a seat and looks up at the old woman as he greets her sweat dripping from his face from the heat of the fire*
"I guess it started when i was training with my master to become a knight for a kingdom in Skjoldier my master soon was killed by the enemies of the realm he told me this to never take off my armor if i do great evil will set upon me" *as bjorn concludes this sentence wind soon rustsels around the tent* "some would say he cursed the armor i say he just wanted me to be protected with this armor serving me well as an adventurer I soon wanted to join the knights of balian they couldn't except me because I couldn't wear the armor of the balian knights so I have been taking mercenary work until a kingdom takes me in as a knight and this is where you find me wandering taking up jobs to pay for food" *bjorns stomach rumbles*
