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.”
Born beneath storm-wracked peaks where the heather grows sharp as blades, Vizad Amen was raised in a clan that measured a man by his scars and his silence. His father fell holding a mountain pass against raiders, and Vizad learned early that the land demands blood in payment for every mile it grants. Trained in the old ways—claymore, shield, and oath—he carries the weight of broken banners and whispered prophecies that mark him as more than a common warrior. Though his voice is rough and his temper quick, he is bound by an unyielding honor, and when the mists roll low across the glens, those who know the legends say Vizad walks with the spirits of his ancestors at his back, guarding a homeland that will never truly let him go.
