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?))
You agree hesitantly and sit on the hags cushion.
"My story?...I wish i could". Your eyes catch the flickering of the candles, unsure of how to respond. ''I... I guess I've just been trying to find where i belong". Your brows furrow, she can tell you are in a deep focus. You try to recall the past decade of your life. ''As far as i can remember i never really had a home. My fyor and mihr...sorry, mother and father in your language; they were always on the run with me, moving from one dingy cabin to damp ruins". It is not easy for you to speak of your up bringing, your eyes water for a split second, nevertheless, you push through. ''I think i was 11 when it happened... The smell still linges, the metallic smell of cold blood against mossy cobble. It was silent, apart from my mothers silent cries. I didn't want mother to be upset, so I went to check on her in the corridor leading to the exit of the ruins we were in.'' You sigh deeply.
''My father was lying still on the floor, blood pooling from his head, my mother over him in tears. Before i could even react, a man came out from the shadows, and struck my mother. I never saw his face... Only what he said to me... "Run boy, run''. You make a gesture with your hands, recreating the actions of the man on that gruesome day.
''I ran as far as i could, following where the sun would rise. Eventually i reached a small village where a blacksmiths wife took me in. At first the blacksmith was hesitant, calling me a b*stard child, a stray... but eventually he came around. He even taught me a few blacksmiths skills''. A slight chuckle comes out from under your breath. '' If i'm entirely honest, i was a pain in the ass to that man. When i turned 14 i got in a bit of trouble with some of the other village kids... We would go around stealing what we could from the villagers and lets just say we almost always got caught by the guards. Being the blacksmiths ''son'' however I got away with it.''
The hag points to your face, then touching her own in the same area, "What about those scars...They don't look like a blacksmithing accident....''
You take a long pause, then using the rough leather gloves you bear, you graze the edge of the scar going across your face and travel back to that part of your life.
''When i turned 17, i felt i had to leave. I didn't know what my goal was or what I wanted to do but I knew I had to leave. Since then I spent 7 years on the path trying to find my calling.'' You stare off into the gap in the tent, out into the night sky, and adjust your seat, preparing to tell the tale of your scars.
''For the first 3 years of my adventure, I went from town to town, looking for odd jobs. My minimal experience with blacksmithing helped a bit but it wasn't enough for me to settle. At 20, I found i'm better at using weapons than making them, so i took advantage of that. Anywhere there was trouble i followed, and did my best to help...killing bandits that have been terrorising villages, wolves, bizarre creatures and so on...'' You reflect for a second... maybe it was to make up for the fact you couldn't save your parents...
"On the day of the first seed, in the Amber cold, I stumbled upon a coastal village. The village people were in a panic, doors nailed shut, and those unfortunate enough to be on the street trying to claw their way into the tavern, screaming for help. I asked the village headman what is causing the chaos and he tells me of a fisherman's child being drowned by a horrific creature. Of course, no one but the fisherman had actually seen this so called creatures so at first i was sceptical. Skipping the boring details, I investigated the shore and sure enough there it was, wet skin falling off the bone, slouching down eating... something?...Someone... I didn't know it then but it was a Vodnik. I took my sword and did what I do best. I underestimated the creature, despite its slow movements, its razor sharp claws caught my face and almost left me half blind.'' You let out yet another sigh, and uncomfortably wince at the memory of the pain you experienced, the infection in the cut from the slime the creature produced was worse than a heartbreak. ''No matter how much I sliced the creature was almost unfazed. Sure it was crawling around but it just wouldn't die. I was running out of ideas, but I couldn't leave these people without help, so i found a different way. I lead the creature as far as i could... took hours yet but it was worth it in the end. Of course I told the village people it was dead but they don't need to know the truth... lo as long as they are safe...''
The hag raises a brow and questions your morals ''And now? Has it returned since? Surely they know you lied''
You give the hag a slight smirk, ''I checked in a few months ago and who would've guessed, the Vodnik must've found new victims or reliable source of food. It's not been back and I'm somewhat of a folk hero...''
You take a stand and stretch after the hours of conversation, ready to rest. ''That's all there is to my life. Travelling around the world, helping others, even if it may come with a price in the future... Anyways, is there anything i could assist you with?''
