Targrim Ironvane was born in a small forge near a castle, raised by parents who were both skilled blacksmiths. From a young age, he learned to shape steel and respect the craft.
When raiders attacked his home, his parents were killed and the forge was destroyed. Targrim survived by fighting with a blade his father had made.
Since then, he has traveled the world as a blacksmith and warrior, improving his skills in both forging and combat.
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.”
((How do you respond?))
Example:"Oh, you want to hear my story?" Targrim said, glancing over at the man beside him as he took a slow sip from his mug. "I was born near a mountain forge, where my parents worked day and night, crafting blades for soldiers and travelers," Targrim continued, his voice calm but steady. "They were respected folk, known for their skill, and I learned the trade from the moment I could hold a hammer," he added, resting his hand against the table. "But one night, raiders came, and everything we built was burned to ash… along with them," Targrim said quietly, his gaze dropping for a moment. "I survived with nothing but a blade my father made and the skills they left me," he went on, tightening his grip around the mug. "Since then, I’ve walked my own path as both a blacksmith and a warrior, searching for a place to start again," Targrim finished, looking back up at the listener.
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
Recommended Comments