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?))
Artorius sat on the cushion, straightening his posture despite the damp, heavy air of the tent. The scent of wet moss clung to his cloak as he spoke.
“I am Artorius of Celandra, a village far in the North of the world,” he said firmly, meeting the hag’s eyes. “A quiet place—cold, isolated, and forgotten by most. But it’s where I learned who I am.”
He rested his hands on his knees, steadying his breath.
“I’ve come to this place to begin my journey—one that will carve my name into history. I don’t want to be just another face lost to time. I want to build something of myself, to prove that someone from a small northern village can leave a mark on the world.”
His gaze wandered around the tent, taking in the floating candles and the strange warmth they gave off, before returning to her.
“So yes… that’s why I’m here. This swampy town may not look like much, but every journey starts somewhere. And if you’ve truly been expecting me, then perhaps you already know the path I’m meant to take.”
