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.”
"Oh well of you insist." Layle says as they sit down making themself comfortable. "Well I come from a land far away and am looking for new adventures and to make a name for myself. I wish to become a blacksmith and maybe master a few bits of magic. I am hoping to meet new people and make good friends in this new land. My name is Lyle A. Dayle. Growing up was a bit harsh as I had trouble figuring out how to read, hey I even struggle with it today. My father was a blacksmith, and my mother was and adventurer, she says that she met my father at his smithy while looking for a nice weapon to use in her journey. I used to love helping my dad around the smithy, seeing the red hot metal being pounded into beautiful shapes of art. It's what got me into smithing, Dad taught me all of the basics of smithing but I'm still experimenting and learning. I look forward to the future that awaits me."
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