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 dwarf seemingly blinked in response, either not having fully processed the question and offer, or having been surprised by her apparent awareness of who he was. "Ah? You've been..." he trailed, furrowing his brow at the offered cushion. He took a breath, then sliding his stunted body onto the cushion. "I am Thurgrim. Thurgrim Silverbraid of- uh. Nowhere, I suppose."
A gloved hand raised itself to lightly draw along the auburn hair that made up his short, bristling beard. Then, lightly twisting at a cylindrical gold bead at the end of a braid aside his head in thought. "I'm a wandering traveler in these lands. My family is... gone. I am a clanless dwed, and seeking of better fortune for myself. I came here after hearing of a talented wise woman in this wood- I seek knowledge. Knowledge of my future and guidance for the present, should Yemeka see fit that I have them."
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