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Jowee20

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  1. Jowee20

    jowee20

    You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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… The figure grips his sword, still in its sheath to his side incase this woman decides to try anything funny. "I am nobody, just a traveler" She stares intently at the traveler. He stares back, with his dark eyes. His hair is well kept, along with his beard. He is not old, but he looks like he has not slept in a long time. The horrors of this mans past has left his face grey and rather sunken. She waves her hand and the floating candles move closer to them, lighting up their faces. "You seem to be running from something, fellow Traveler." "Dont trust witches. Never have. You think you know everything. I once thought I knew everything too. My own ego, cost me everything." The crone watches the Traveller, stands up and asks "So you have come to this land to start fresh? Sir.." "Ravelon. My name is Ravelon. And no need to call me Sir. I am no longer a Knight..." Ravelon stands up, his hair brushing the tent roof. He pulls his hood over his head, turns to leave and as he does the crone snatches a strand of hair from his head. As soon as he does this, in a split second, Ravelons sword is pushing against the crones neck. "I thought I could at least make it to supper before having to clean my sword." Ravelon walks out of the tent soon after, wiping the blood off of his sword. He climbs his nearby horse, and sets off in this strange new land.
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