Born in the Grand Kingdom of Urguan during Aevos ninety-four years ago, Rokan was raised among mountain dwarves who valued the open peaks and great halls carved into the mountains. His family expected him to follow their traditions and remain in the highlands of Urguan. Unlike many of his relatives, however, Rokan never disliked descending into caves and would often travel below to visit distant cave dwarf cousins. During these visits, he grew fascinated with ancient stonework, old runes, and stories surrounding the lost Hall of Urguan. Whenever the opportunity arose, he searched both mountain peaks and deep caverns for forgotten relics and remnants of ancient dwarven history. While exploring an abandoned tunnel with his cousins, a cave collapse killed several of them and left Rokan trapped beneath the rubble for days. The guilt of surviving while his kin perished hardened him into a quieter and more isolated dwarf, and since then he has wandered Azuras seeking meaning in forgotten ruins and relics of the past.
The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”
The old dwarf stepped into the shack, briefly eyeing the floating candles before lowering himself into the chair with a grunt.
He rested both hands on his walking staff and stared at the hag with narrowed grey eyes.
“Kal’Urguan,” he answered plainly. “Though I’ve spent more time in forgotten trenches than among my own kin.”
He adjusted his beard and leaned forward slightly. “I seek old ruins, buried by time.”
“And how exactly were you expecting me, woman?”
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