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?))
The slight eyebrow quiver is the only thing that gave away their surprise at the recognition, in a calm, clear tone he responds, "G'day ma'am"
As he walks slowly forward his eyes scan the small space for danger, but more importantly, food. His eyes alight on a half-eaten bowl of mushroom stew on the table between him and the hag, with a glance at her he grasps the bowl in two hands and slurps noisily. After licking a few more drops from the bottom of the bowl, he sets it down, belches softly, and leans a hip on the table. He turns away from the hag, towards the open flap of the tent.
After a few moments of silence, he begins, his voice, while still calm, is noticeably less steady than when he entered, "They've taken all the sheep, every last one. The Empire has to feed its army, and I didn't get them out of the valley in time." His voice slowly rises in volume as he continues, "What good is a shepherd without sheep!"
He puts his weight back on both feet, twists around towards the hag and says pointedly, "Perhaps I'll go find some more sheep to herd, or perhaps the time has come to play a bigger part in this world."
Maxwell has lived his whole life in the Empire of Man, he and his father are simple shepherds. He spends his time roaming the lush valleys with sheep in tow sometimes running across thieves, wolves, or other hungry animals. He carries his shortened shepherd's crook that can be used for more than just catching a stray sheep. He grew up with little, in a small stone hut on the northern slopes of the Empire him and his father were hard folk, subsisting on the land with little connection to civilization. When Maxwell was younger, he was taught his letters by and old spinster from the village where they took the sheep to be sold on market days. His life was simple and he liked it. If it was possible he would've been born, lived and died in the northern hills. However, politics and people of higher station than him always meddle in the lives of lesser folk, and when war was waged by the Empire, his livestock was taken for the war effort, and he was left with less than nothing. His father is aging and growing frail and with no way to continue his life in the hills a highlander is forced into civilization to make his way in a new setting.
