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.”
Bodrak raises his eyebrows in surprise. He looks around the tent, finding no one else but the hag and him. He points at himself, "Are you talking to me?."
The old hag smiles at Bodrak as she pats the cushion, "There's nothing to worry, child. Take a seat and follow your destiny."
The young dwarf stares curiously at her, debating on to walk away or staying in the tent. "Who are you?" as he takes a step towards the cushion.
"I'm everyone and no one at the same time," speaks the old had in riddles, "But who you are is what really matters."
Bodrak finally takes a seat and smirks when he feels the cushion is nice and cozy. "They know me as Bodrak Greyforge. I was named by my grandfather and I carry the weight of my name with honour."
The oldhad reaches near a table and picks up a teapot. She begins pouring some tea on a ceramic cup, "And so, lovely Bodrak, what brings you upon these lands? Where do you come from?" she says slowly pushing the cup towards him.
"A long and hard journey has brought me to these lands. I'm in search of a legendary myth amongst blacksmiths." says Bodrak as he nods in gratitude for the cup of tea. "Old and scattered rumors whisper about an inmortal blacksmith who knows all secrets to this ancient art."
The old hag lets out a slight laugh and crosses her hands on top of the table. "I've heard every myth you would only hear in hundreds of lifes," she says squiting her eyes, "But this one escapes my knowledge."
Badrok strokes his beard and gestures with his hands. "My grandfather spoke of this tale on his deathbed and handed me a ring." he mentions as he reaches his leather pouch. He opens it and pulls out a silver ring marked with some ancient runes. "He sweared on his beard this piece was crafted by this legendary blacksmith and someone near these lands may know about it."
The old hag extends an arm to reach the ring but Bodrak puts it away on time. "This is the only reminiscence I have of my beloved grandfather." he says frowning at the old had.
"Oh. I'm sorry, darling." says the old hag looking embarrased, "I didn't mean to take it. Just wanted a look at it."
Badrok takes a sip of his cup and let's out a sight.
"What else can you tell me about your story?" says the old women in a kind voice.
"I was born in a cave settlement called Magmapike, way below the mountains of The Grand Kingdom of Urguan. I was raised by my grandfather, Brovatin, since both my father and mother died in a mine collapse when I was nothing but a toddler. He taught me the secrets of the underground, the mines and most importantly, the great art of blacksmithing." says Bodrak and he moves his head, picturing those old days. "I want to become the best blacksmith that walked these lands, but before that I must find the legendary blacksmith and beg him to take me as an apprentice."
The old hag closes her eyes and nods, "I see. Your journey has not but just started," she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, just to stare piercingly at Badrok, "To find what you must, you should head towards the epicenter of civilization."
Bodrak raises his eyebrows in expectation. "How do you know that?" he asks nervously, "Should I head to the capital?"
"I cannot see further on your destiny," says the old hag grabing his hand and holding it with care, "But you must follow the words your heart speaks when you lose all hope."
The strong dwarf looks down at her hands and notices they are as smooth as a young woman's skin. He looks back into the old hag eyes and for an instant he catches the glimpse of a city.
Bodrak knows where to go.
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