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.”
"Me?" Maldir looks chocked. "I'm surprised you know who I am" he says as he hesitantly sits down. "Well euh, where to begin? I come from a far away mountain with an unimportant name. My people have exhausted the ground of almost all it's riches. My brother, Ruby, 'n I had a choice to make. Either we stay and try to live off of a land we know won't last for our lifetime anymore, or we look for another mountain. After some back and forth, and arguing a lot with our parents, we decided to leave everything behind and look for a new beginning. For long we have traveled in search of the right place. Until we heard tales of a great and prosperous dwarven kingdom in these lands. We have come here to see if the tales were true." Maldir's gaze shifts to the ground, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Now, all we can do is hope that we've finally found our new home." He looks up, trying to gauge the hag's reaction.
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