The gate of destiny

You head east toward the gates of the settlement. They are little more than a series of stacked metal containers and a wooden door that slides open and shut. A single watchman is on duty at a time, armed with a spear, some arrows, and communal armor. 

As you walk down the street, elders nod at you. Some wave and shed tears. After the death of your mother, not much was expected of you. You persevered, however, and now you are old enough to make a name for yourself. You reach the guard and he hails you.

“The fateful day at last, eh?”

Gordon is his name. An older man, he headed missions to map the outskirts of the peninsula in his youth. His accumulated knowledge of the local streetways has been invaluable to newer generations of adventurers and traders alike. He claps your shoulder, hugs you, and offers you some plain advice.

“Explore the old medical quarter. Raiders and traders leave all kinds of useful junk lying around over there, and you might stumble upon overlooked goods. Beware the wharf, but you know that already.” 

He leans forward and looks you dead in the eyes.

“Don’t be a hero. You have plenty of time to get used to scavenging before the larger ranger teams recruit you for quests into the interior. Always have a place to hide in case something scary spots you. Stay away from the great bridge, it is never as deserted as it appears.”

You nod until he is convinced that you have heeded the gravity of his advice. He finally leaves you to your grave choice.

At last, the choice is yours.

​

You step beyond the gate and ponder your options.