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?))
Once, I was of the Mountain Kingdom, but now its halls stood empty, their forges cold, and hearths fireless. Flame and stone, war and betrayal had swallowed his kin—his blood. He was nothing but vengeance, pride, and the image of what must be reborn.
“I will be damned if I let history die with us,” Durak’s voice rang out, heavy as stone. “Shall I not sit upon a throne of new bones in the heart of the world? “Shall I not forge a vast and unbreakable empire?”
Durak stands up and say “I will not give up until my blod is gone or have retaken the mountains that belonged to my kin“
Durak walked away into the new adventure he have infront of him
