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?))
“I didn’t come here for games,” I say. “I’m looking for something. That’s all.”
She keeps staring, like she’s digging through my skull. “Sit. Tell me your story.”
I drop onto the cushion, tense, ready to move.
“I had a home once,” I say quietly. “A father worth following. He was killed. I chased his killer across the sea. Spent years fighting for a chance to put a knife in his throat.”
My jaw clenches.
“Someone else killed him before I could. Took my purpose with him.”
I meet her eyes.
“So that’s my story. I’m a warrior without a target. A blade with nothing left to cut. If you really were expecting me… tell me why I’m here.”
(I want to be my favorite character from my favorite anime: Thorfinn Karlsefni)
