Embark on an epic adventure; you need to make a name for yourself.
From Create Your Own Story
Yes, this won't do. Just lazying around when you should be out there defeating villains and getting head from grateful captives. You rise up from the fur throne, throw on your best Belted Plaid and march out from your roundhouse, across the village and over to Svanhildr the Crone's hut. She's a witch as old as time itself, and ought to know if there are any good places left in the world for you to explore.
You open the flap-door to her filthy hut and barge in. As usual, she's sitting in front of the tiny fireplace at the far end of the room, covered by layer upon layer of animal hides and furs. Her milky eyes open as you approach, and she grumbles:
"Who goes there?"
"It is I, your chief. I'm struck with wanderlust, and demand you tell me of a faraway place where I can fight, fuck and plunder!".
She mutters, reaching under her blankets and pulling a handful of herbs out, which she throws into the fire. It begins to spark and glow in various, vibrant colors, and her eyes regain some of their natural light.
"The Asshuran priestesses of Balepolis are planning an amazing sacrifice to Mardu, in which mountains of gold, tight virgins and heretic scrolls are to be burned at the top of their Ziggurats. He who is brave should consider stealing the sacrifices before they go to waste.".
The fire switches to another color, and she hums.
"I see a hole in the ground, a cave in the middle of the westernmost forest. But there's something about it-... The people inside of it are like none I have ever seen, and it feels as if though they are guarding something that's not meant to be guarded-...".
Suddenly, the flames go wild, and the fire grows to the point that it would have burned through the roof; if it hadn't shrunken back to it's original size minutes afterwards.
"I see a lonely man, walking along a road-... He is on his way somewhere beyond the forest, but I don't know where. Regardless, he will meet his doom unless someone accompanies him.".
You peer with suspicion at the old hag, then you:
