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.”
((How do you respond?))
"Expected or not, here I am," he replied, settling onto the cushion with a nonchalant air. "Thrór Caveforged, at your service. The swampy ambiance and the delightful scent of decay really spoke to me. Figured I'd drop by for a chat." After a quick chuckle to himself, he continued, "I'm a Cave Dwarf, I have travelled here with my Brother Nori, seeking a new home for ourselves. We're chasing a beautiful underground home filled with the earth's secrets... Just WAITING to be uncovered!"
"Picture this, old hag. A dwarf with a beard as dark as the deepest caverns, braided with bits of mica and silver. My eyes, sharp as a pickaxe, have seen more tunnels and hidden places than most could fathom. And this," he gestured to his broad shoulders, "is the frame of a dwarf who's swung a hammer more times than he can count."
"If you REALLY want my story, then pay attention... It's an adventurous tale..."
And so, Thrór Caveforged began to regale the old hag with tales of his mountain home, his misadventures with his brother Nori, and the love he has for his old mountain-home. As he spoke, the candles flickered, casting dancing shadows that seemed to listen intently to the dwarf's every word.
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