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.”
((How do you respond?))
Harres would eye the hag, cautiously taking a seat, clinging to his belongings, "I am Harres Vars'Sehn hailing from Numendil, specifically Numenost the fair" he proclaimed with an expression only a man of unwavering conviction would exude. "As a lad my parents would tell me grand tales of the lands before, the battles, the sufferings and the joyful traditions. Much of it sadly lost too time." His face reflecting a wistful sorrow. "For as long I can remember historic literature was my lifeblood and much to my dismay was it when I discovered the extent of the lost art. Nevertheless I clung onto whatever texts I could find, fervently reading in my families godswood."he said, his mind enveloped in a gentle serenity tinged with a deep, heartfelt longing. "Eventually the libraries ran dry and I was forced to venture the lands unknown in search of what gave me life. This is what brought me too you!."
![](http://cdn.lordofthecraft.net/monthly_2024_06/download.png.0d593493c72d1e67b7d527e8dbabccee.png)
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