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[Nilum]

"I have given many gifts to mortals through the ages. Wealth, power, wisdom. I have granted their desires and cast them into the world. They have lived and they have died. I gave them everything.
As compensation, when they fell, their souls would be mine. I offered them temporary strength for eternal servitude, and today you too seek to make the same pact. You will forgo salvation for immediate gain.
Intoxicated by the lure of the strong, you have summoned me, child. I have answered your call. I shall deliver to you what you've had robbed. To you, I give potential."

Those words are the first thing you can remember. They've been with you since your admittance to the orphanage. You've never been able to divine any real meaning. As a victim of the Ordainment you are without family. The staff here took you in, bloody and broken, one of thousands of orphans. They provided you with food and shelter and complementary indoctrination, but you were too old for it to take. They graciously let you stay for a year, but today -- today is the day you're forced out. The clothes on your back are your only possessions.

Brother Virgil is the one to see you off. He was the closest thing to a father you can remember, but the parting brings no tears to either of you. You step out of the carriage and without so much as a goodbye, he departs. You are alone.

Behind you is a dirt path that leads back to the orphanage. In front of you, spanning east-west, is a cobblestone road. The town of Hallowed Marsh is a three-hour walk east. With the sun rising, you expect to arrive before noon. You have no idea what lies west. Offered little choice, you venture toward the land you know.

Halfway through your journey, you pause for a brief respite. Your bare feet have taken you far, but the skin's breaking. You need a breather. The sound of a trotting horse approaches, and you realize it's a travelling fortune-teller. She seems to be headed in the same direction, so you resolve to travel with her. She passes by without acknowledgment, and you follow up from behind.

After several minutes of silence, she stops walking, turns to face you, and speaks.
"Tell me, boy, what is your name?"
You stutter at the sudden question, but just as you're about to answer--
"And do tell me what you hope to do once you get to Hallowed Marsh."
>...

Status: An hour's walk from Hallowed Marsh. Your feet are sore.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Average in all respects.

[Roboboy33]

Our name is Marched Hallow
We want to buy some llamas.

[Nilum]

"M-my name? It's Marched Hallow, and... I'm looking to buy some llamas," you say. She nods, then turns around and continues to walk.
You're not sure why you said that, but you suspect your obsession with llamas transcends the current plane of reality.

So the journey continues in utter silence. At last, you can see Hallowed Marsh in the distance, and the fortune-teller turns to you once more.
"You don't look like you have anything of value on you, so, pray tell, what are you going to purchase your treasured llamas with, Mr. Hallow?"
Oh jeez. You hadn't thought this through, really. You figured you could find work in the city and this wouldn't really be a problem.

>...

[Roboboy33]

I will work for the Llamas.

[The Fool]

I will work for the Llamas.

...even if the jobs are dangerous.

[Nilum]

"The llamas will sustain me," you mutter.
The fortune-teller raises her eyebrows, then lowers them. The next ten minutes pass in silence, and then you find yourself before the gates of Hallowed Marsh. They're wide open. The lady turns and speaks.
"Best of luck. We part here," she says, then leads her horse and holdings down a winding cobblestone path, probably headed toward a pub on the outskirts of town.

You're at a fork in the road once more. Straight ahead is the market and it's just past noon, peak shopping time. You could try and find a llama merchant there. To your left, a path that circles the walls of the town and heads to the slums. To your right is "Craftsman's Alley" -- a stream of workshops and merchant homes. You could alternatively head toward the pub, or the city hall, both of which lie opposite the market.

>...
Status: At the gate to Hallowed Marsh.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Average in all respects.

[Roboboy33]

Look for a Llama seller and find out how much they cost.

[Yoink]

Go to the pub and listen to the tall tales of llamas, drowning our sorrows in alchohol whilst we plan a grand scheme to acquire some llama goodness.

[Nilum]

Right, first order of business: determining how much a llama will cost. So you head to the market. There are stalls set up, selling almost anything you could think of. Swords and bows, bread and fruit, books and jewelry. You found a stall that sold horses and approached the man in charge.
"Sir, would you happen to know where I could buy a llama?" you ask, nervous but intent on getting what you came for.
"The hell is a llama? Get lost, kid," he says, shooing you away.

Broken and defeated, you decide to head for the pub. You will drown your sorrows in alcohol and concoct a plan.

The pub's only a few minutes away. You strut through the propped-open oaken door and sit down at the bar.
"I'll have some alcohol please, good sir!" you declare. Your heart still aches at having been denied your llama.
"Comin' right u-- hey, what? You're a bit young, aren't you?"
You shake nervously. You aren't really sure how old you are, but you think you're at least 15.
"I-I'm old enough," you say with false confidence.
"I don't care how old you are, kid, I'm wondering if you can pay for it," comes the gruff response.
...what a pain. You can't even drown your sorrows without having any money. And unfortunately, the pub's all but empty since it's just past noon. Wherever the fortune teller headed, it wasn't here.

>...
Status: At a pub in Hallowed Marsh.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Average in all respects.

[The Fool]

"Barkeep, could you tell me if there are any jobs in this city? I need some coin to buy a llama and a bottle of your finest ales."

[Nilum]

"So, um, are there any jobs for me in this city? I'd love to be a customer of yours, really, and I need money for a llama!" you say. The bartender places a hand on his chin.
"Hmm. The church always needs choir boys. You could join the militia, or I suppose if you have a weapon, offer to guard some travelling merchants. Sorry to say, but you won't find llamas this far north. Try heading south a ways."
He was surprisingly helpful and his words ease your initial disappointment.

Looks like you have a few options open to you, now. The news that llamas aren't found this far north was disappointing, but you suppose an exotic animals merchant might have one nonetheless. You have a bit of a vendetta against the church after it performed a hostile take-over of the government, assassinating the old ministers (including your parents.) The militia might be interesting, though perhaps dangerous. Acting as a guard to travelling merchants seems borderline irresponsible given your abject lack of combat skills (not to mention weapons) but it might help get you further south.

Where to, what to do...?
>...
Status: At a pub in Hallowed Marsh.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Average in all respects.

[Firelordsky]

Join the militia.

[Roboboy33]

ask if they have llama mounts.

[Yoink]

Clamber aboard the first caravan heading south, and introduce ourselves as Nago Krobag, strangler of giants, kicker of arses and generally feared badass.
Glare threateningly at anyone looking unconvinced.

[Nilum]

Militia it is. You head to the town square and find the barracks which is luckily very proximate. The old building is clearly in terrible condition. You hear the solid THWAK of wooden training swords coming from inside. You step to the door and knock. An older gentleman greets you.
"You're late for the recruitment session. It's already started. If you want, I can sign you up for the next one, two weeks from now," he says.
Two weeks is an awfully long time to wait. You really wanted a llama sooner rather than later.
"Sir, let me tell you, I was really looking forward to joining soon, because, um..."
You struggle to whip up a convincing lie. You weren't ever really that good with people.
"...because what? Out with it, child!" he shouts, visibly annoyed.

"I'm Nago Krobag, strangler of giants, kicker of arses! I would be an absolute ASSET to your militia!" you say. You don't know where the idea came from, but it's the only thing you could think of.
The gentleman mutters something and rolls his eyes. As he goes to shut the door in your face, you deliver the best threatening glare you can muster. He sighs.

"Alright, how's this: if you can beat the winner of the recruitment session tournament in sparring match, I'll let you join us."
The proposition he puts forth is intriguing, but you really don't know the first thing about fighting. ...though perhaps for the llamas, you feel like you should give it a shot.
"Challenge accepted!" you declare.

He takes you in to the barracks and toward the training ring. There, you see two boys, approximately your age, in the ring. They're fighting. Both of them are wearing simple tunics. One is holding what looks like a waster -- the other has a bokken. Neither seem like capable swordsmen. There are other children, many bleeding or bruised, sitting on the sidelines.

The boy with the waster is getting beaten up. The crowd watching starts to chant.
"Xavier, Xavier, Xavier!"
Bokken-boy starts smashing harder and his opponent can't keep up his defense. His sword is batted away, and the next blow lands square on his forehead. His eyes go blank and he's down and out.

Applause. You realize that if you have to fight 'Xavier' you're going to end up just like that boy on the ground. Unless you have a plan. The gentleman that you met earlier congratulates the winner of the fight, then announces to the crowd.
"Now, Xavier's guaranteed a spot in the militia. However, this young lad over here," he says as he motions toward you, "thinks he's better than all of you. He seems to think he doesn't need to show up in time for the tournament. So we're going to give him a match with Xavier. Except this time, no judges. No rules. No stopping once it's started."

The crowd turns toward you and starts to boo.
...you need to do something.
>...
Status: At the barracks.
Inventory: The rags on your back.
Skills: Average in all respects.