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.”
Balgrim glances around the tent as his bright green eyes take in the smoky hovel. "'Yer 'te swamp hag, aye?" The squat dwarf hobbled over to the cushion, not needing much to sit down on the offered seat, shifting a little to get himself comfortable before turning back to the old woman. His voice was muffled by his black dwarven beard, and his own mumbling speech.
"Yer Sisters of the Moor sent me to 'ya. Said ya could teach me of the green, and the world, and nature. I aint but lived me whole life in me home, ain't not seen the sky but last year. Jems be pretty and gold is great, but I still find the sky so damn beautiful every time I looks up." Balgrim sighed, looking to the tent flap, knowing that the sun had long hidden from view and the fog kept the blue at bay. The irony was not lost on him, but he tried not to dwell on it.
"My Story, ya say? Aint a long one yet. But it aint the same as it was, no more. I aint gonna be a gem cutter in the holds, not knowin what's out here now. I need ta see more of it. I *need* ta travel more of this massive world. I feel like even in torchlight, I was blind!" His voice was picking up and he even started to breath harder before catching himself and composing himself with a cough into his beard.
"Ah-hem... But, I've lived all my life around rock and gems. Not trees and -Bears-! I need to know more about this amazin' world of nature... and I was told you could help me. Sa please, can ya teach me?"
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