Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
The dwarf’s already stiff posture grows even more rigid and suspicious in the dingy tent. He glances at the suspended candles but ignores the offered cushion, remaining standing or sitting on the nearest crate if available. He speaks in a rough, low growl:
"Misfortune brings me here. I am a mountain dwarf from a distant, nameless mountain hold. We mined ore there for centuries, but a plague came that dried up the veins and destroyed our clan. My story is simple: I lost everything. I didn't come here to seek shelter, only for the gold and resources I need to start a new mine and rebuild my family’s honour in a strange land. So tell me, Hag, if you know where the fresh, unexploited deposits lie in this moldy ground. I have no time for chatter."
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