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| In a fantasy world, you would be born as the son of a miller. |
 In a fantasy world, you would be born as the son of a miller. From childhood, you were apprenticed to a blacksmith and grew attached to him like a father. You weren't particularly talented, but you worked diligently. Towards the end of your life, you forged a sword for the Duke himself! You lived a simple life. You passed on your blacksmithing skills to your apprentice. In old age, you started drinking heavily and eventually died in your sleep. |
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In a fantasy world, you would be born as the son of a scribe. From childhood, you were drawn to books, dreamed of becoming a philosopher and writing a treatise, but you didn't excel in your studies. Like your father, you spent your life working as a copyist of decrees. In your spare time, you wrote "Reflections on the Harm of Free Thought." You married late, to the daughter of a greengrocer. You named your son after your grandfather and taught him to read and write from an early age. Together with your wife and son, you died at the age of fifty from the plague.
In a fantasy world, you would be born as the youngest daughter of a poor peasant. Rumors circulated that you were not his biological child, but the child of a baron, whose manor your mother once worked as a cook, but your father always dismissed them. One day, bandits attacked your village, terrorizing the area. You and the other girls fled, you fell into a ravine, and broke your neck. A sad story.
In a fantasy world, you would be born as the eldest son of a tanner. Hardworking and diligent. You followed in your father's footsteps, working diligently in the inherited workshop. You married a good girl, and then children came along. You died at the age of sixty, surrounded by loving children and grandchildren.
In a fantasy world, you would be born as the seventh son in a peasant family. You would be a cheerful simpleton and a braggart. You would work in the field with your father, and in the evenings, you would hang out with the guys in the village. At twenty, you, as the youngest, were sent to the army. But you didn't get to participate in any battles; you were stabbed in an alley near the "Elven Pot" tavern while absent without leave. That's all.
