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?)) "Oh, uh…" I stutter, I eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, I felt uneasy, then I give in to tell my tale. "I was always seeking adventure since I was a young lad, I would end up causing trouble for my village, my older brother Edrin, would always tell me stories about his adventures, they fascinated me, so much so that I once begged him to teach me to use a bow, after a long while he gave in and taught me all the skills I know today, how to hunt, how to skin, how to line up my shot so I don't waste many arrows, he was my idol, until my fateful 17th birthday, where I learned that he had been killed by a dragon, ever since I have wanted to grow stronger, to get revenge on the dragons, when I turned 18 I was allowed to leave my village in the hopes of getting stronger to one day defeat that dragon, I survived on my own, travelled through towns, and now... here I am."
