You have some memories of the world you left behind, just vaguely haunting you. Somehow you feel that should worry you but try as you might they slip through you mind like a tendril of morning mist.
Looking down you scan through your Inventory. An axe, pick and a sword, and looking to the left you calculate that you have enough food for a few days travel. You are an outcast, a Rogue at best but why your mind screams and nothing answers in the dark confines of your brain.
So you turn your face to the sun and with a gentle breeze at your back you turn your attention to the steep hill ahead wondering what lay over the rise and the words of the old women echo strangely in your head the Legend continues in you, so you stride out to find out what meets you ahead.