Long plumes of smoke spiralled up and into the dark sky. Several faces illuminated in a circle around a steadily crackling. Stationed just slightly further out, sat resting atop the stump of an old tree was an elderly man. His skin was marked with the occasional scar and plenty sun spots, dimples and sunken eyes that hid a wealth of knowledge within. Wheezing out something between laughter and a cough, yellowed teeth flashed in a wide grin.
"The path was laid before them. The knew the perils, that there would be enemies and dangers within as far as the eye could see. That they'd not have a chance to see the light of day again unless they battled out the competition, rose to take that prize at the end. But you youngens already know about that."
Lifting a wooden pipe to his lips, a long, purposeful sip followed as dark brown eyes swept over the group before him.
"What you want to hear, is what happened inside. But first, we're going to need our brave 'volunteer' for this adventure. Remind me, who'd you like to hear about today. Rufus of the White Chonchord? Sabina, Mistress of the Sand?"
A lone hand stretched into the air amongst the crowd, turning the old storytellers attention his way.
"Go on, speak up."
(Choose your Race.)
