You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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.”
The yet to be named dwarf eyes the strange hag with mouth slightly agape. Slowly he makes his way to the cushion, taking the time to look around the strange tent but he didn't find anything too alarming.
"How do ya expect me, but not know me story?"
The cave dwarf fell onto the cushion and got comfy, wasn't too hard, he hadn't sat on anything but ground, rocks and fallen over trees in quite some time.
"Well I suppose it don't matter. Used ta be part of a cave clan, fine folk, but they caught me stealin' and told me to leave. Was a dumb thing ta do, but I was young and dared. Can't back down from a dare, aye? Hahaha!"
"Been roaming the lands since, ain't find much ta be honest. Few villages here and there, some spiders and zombies. Kept ta myself, kept safe. Ran from cave ta cave, can't seem ta keep out of 'em!"
"Shame ta be honest. Used ta be a good kid. Had quite a life back home, ma pops taught me a lot about bombs, but I got in with the wrong group of kids I guess. But it was a small clan, ain't more than a hundred folks. Ain't got much chance for mercy and second chances. But I've been thinking, aye. What if I bring something back, something big. Might let me come back home! But I ain't got much idea what to get. So I roam around, looking for something wile trying ta survive."
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