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.”
The young Adunian took a deep slow breathe through his nose as he entered the tent, his eyes closing softly as he exhaled and a faint smile appeared on his lips. A good memory perhaps these smells yielded to him. He opened his eyes once more before spitting the last of his chewing Tabaco onto the ground outside- only to pull out a wooden pipe which he carefully packed with dried Tabaco leaves he pulled from a water proof pouch. Only once his pipe was lit and a long puff inhaled did he dare begin to offload his gear, offering the hag a drag of his pipe as he lay his bowcase and quiver beside the cushion.
"My story?"
He sat back pulling his cowl back to reveal dark hair, kept short and a well maintain set of mutton chops which had begun to go grey in spots, despite the youth of his face. With another long drag he sighed, a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he did so.
"I come from the coast, burned be most of it now. The oath of my father and his father and his father before him to keep the beacons lit against the dark forsworn. I'd called myself Oathbreaker if there was anyone left to hold me to it."
he shook his head with a light chuckle taking another puff pointing it back at her, a realization dawning to him.
"You're expecting me, you know me, you know my face, you know /our/ story. Caemon has been here already. I feel him in the wind, brother mine. He has felt it to, a shift in the world... The winds blow ever harder, the storms rage longer.. It is time to see what awaits me, and hope the lad hasn't made our face criminal."
