I am a man that is well past his prime. Yet back in my day I traveled all across Illyraid and did all sorts of things. All that travelling got me two sore feet and a pocket full of stories.
My story starts with being born, like most peoples, to a family of farmers. It wasn't the biggest family nor was it the biggest farm, but it was home. Always had food in our bellies and a roof to support me, my mother and father, brother and sister, and grandmother. Life was decent but I always had that itch for something else. Ever since I could walk I began exploring every part of the farm. Soon I knew everything there was to know, even the hollowed rock I kept my secret gold stash. Yet the itch remained, I was not destined for working the land like my father and mother. One night when bedding down for the night my grandmother told us children stories about adventure. Stories of her and grandfather traveling Illyraid, slaying beasts, fighting in massive battles, and of massive cities that takes days to travel through. My siblings thought of it as the rambling of an old women but I saw wonder. I knew then what I was going to do with my life, I was going to be an adventurer. Soon after my thirteenth birthday I left home and set out on the open road.
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