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?))
Ukrum sits and takes out a small flask of mead, which he takes a sip from. His nerves settled, he begins.
"What's there isn't as interesting as you might think, but I come from a long line of jewelers and goldsmiths. The first of our Clan was Kadnin Glimmerhelm, who did the detail work on the helm of the King at the time; beautiful piece if you've ever been lucky enough to see it. Since then, we've been involved in smithing, gemcarving, and a bit of enchanting. My own father was Khargref Glimmerhelm, who was an adventurer himself. Traveled with a group in search of an old lost gemstone belonging to a fallen dwarf-hold. Found it, too; it's the pride of our Clan."
He burps for a moment, then continues.
"Married my ma and I wasn't long behind, then. Gerda Anvilstone, her name was. But you can imagine I grew up with stories of my da's adventures. There's a lot to the world other than just what's in the mountains, and I wanted to see it. Father sent me off with his blessings and his old armor, though it's not much for protection. But then again, it's part of the Clan tradition to forge your own armor when you're ready. I haven't found the materials yet, so we'll get there when we get there."
He looks confidently at the old woman.
"So that's it. I'm out here looking for gold and glory, and I'm not going to deny it if anyone asks. I know who I am, and where I came from, and I'll make my ancestors proud."
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