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.”
He tenses looking up at the woman "I am Thorim Stoutheart a dwarf who was exiled from his mountain home for defending his own honor by killing his own kin. But this wont stop me from pursuing greatness, yes. I was born to be great!" he stands proudly then continues "After the exile i roamed this world in search of fame, i found that in these times banditry is the quickest way to earn both fame and coin. So i've been thinking why shouldn't i gather a worthy group like a brotherhood or even a clan just like old times. Yes i still miss the meadhall of my ancestors... It may prove to be a difficult task but it is worth trying in the very least and...This place is just a first milestone for my great journey to become the richest dwarf any clan has ever seen!" He spits on the ground finishing " You will see you old hag."
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