You recall that you are on your way to visit your place of birth and raising. Rorikstead isn't a proper city, but it is a large area of farms and folk you know well. Nostalgia floods back of the times spent with your kin and friends, and your first tastes of the power you'd someday hold.
You lumber along the paths, and after some hours you see that the path forks ahead. You know from experience that they both lead to Rorikstead, but after time they've both changed. Whether you go high or go low you know both hold danger you must confront.
The first path to the right seems to be a pass, and your experience in travels tells you it's the perfect site for a bandit to ambush travelers. You think of how best to approach the situation, and decide if you take that route you'd be trying to find their camp and flip the usual narrative so that your prey is on the defensive. Bandits are used to being the one with the element of surprise, and usually fall into the fatal error of hesitating when they lose it from the start.
The second seems worn in a way you faintly recognize, but easier to tell is the potent musky scent coming from ahead. There's no doubt about it that giants and their mammoths are down that ways. You nearly catch your mind drifting at the thought of a massive man thrashing within your form, and your body already churns from how long it's been since you had slain one.
The decision awaits as to what your next fight will be...
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