sbarros21

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?))
 

Tholvan hesitates at the edge of the tent, but eventually sits down. It’s been days since he last spoke with anyone.
 

“My name’s Tholvan. Tholvan Mossbeard,” he says, his voice low and rough with a dwarven accent. “I was raised not far from here, in a large family of farmers, brewers, and traders. Honest folk.”

He pauses, clearly not used to speaking at length...
 

“I learned how to work the land, how to fell a tree without angering the forest, how to brew something worth trading. My dad taught me how to use an axe too, not for glory, but just so I’d live to see the next morning”

A slight shift in his demeanor is noticed by the old hag.

“But… I couldn’t stay there. Felt like something was calling for me, like I needed more, or something else, I don't know” He shrugs faintly. “So I left. Figured I’d make an honest living by myself. See the world. Meet new folk. Foolish, I know, but I had to do something”

His eyes lift again, curiosity showing through his quiet demeanor.
 

“I enjoy reading and writing. I’d like to write down the stories I come across in mmy travels one day, when I’ve got enough of ’em, anyway.” After a brief pause, he adds, “I’m also interested in magic. I don’t know anything about it, really, but I find it interesting. But anyhow, that's why I'm here, thought maybe you’d have something worth reading. Was I wrong?”