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.”
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
Lyle looks confused, yet curious, "I am Lyle, Lyle Plainfield."
He sat down carefully. "I hail from a small village far from here, my father is Robyn Plainfield."
"He was a mercenary before settling down and becoming a farmer, from the moment of my birth he made sure of it that any thought of being a warrior would be quickly forgotten, for he has seen many a great & horrible thing in his years of service."
"Because of my fathers valor as a mercenary, he had been all over the world and told me of its beauty and cultures."
Lyle looked somewhat nostalgic.
"He is gone now... and it's a terrible shame."
"For what I want to do in this world? I dont know, perhaps I could be a great artist? maybe a scholar? Hah!! perhaps not a scholar!"
Lyle chuckled and looked at the hag for a response....
