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?))
"Good day to you, good woman. I was told I should speak with you," I say as I glance around briefly and sit on the cushion.
"So, my story, eh...? It is a rather simple one. I was raised in the Rûthas family alongside my half-brother. From childhood, I was drawn to blacksmithing and trained in it. As I grew older, it became clear that I would remain short, just as I am now. This, together with the color of my hair, earned me the nickname ‘Copper Dwarf’ among family and friends. The wolf pelt I wear is a trophy from my first hunt, when I was sixteen. The beast nearly tore me apart, but I was lucky enough to strike it square in the skull with my axe."
"And what about your parents, my friend? Did they treat you well?" the woman asks.
"Ah, my mother was a devout woman. She always made sure I behaved properly and remained mindful of our Goddess. She often grew angry when I acted irresponsibly or foolishly. My father, on the other hand, always seemed too busy to pay much attention to our upbringing. He gave me an axe before my first hunt and threatened me with harsh words should I ever bring shame upon the family."
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