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?))
He looks up at her, eyes akin to smoldering coals. -"I come from old stone that cracked"- he says, in a low, gravelly voice. -"My forge buried, my kin scattered. One moment I was shaping gears, the next the ceiling collapsed like brittle sandstone I was buried. I heard muffled shouting, screams until - silence."- He stops for a few seconds, letting the weight of his words settle in the room. -"I was entombed for days. One wouldn't imagine a dwarf to become claustrophobic easily, but it gnawed me through. A lucky rockslide eventually gave me enough space to work myself out. Wandering the halls of my mountainhome, or tomb, littered with corpses. Burn wounds, a few torn cadavers. It was mostly a blur, until I found myself at the gate's steps."- Another mourning second or three passes before he takes a swig of a little bronze flask strapped to his waist. -"So here I am. Smoke still in my beard, nowhere to anchor my anvil. So tell me - if you've been expecting me, what else has fate prepared?"
[PS: temporary skin, will make a proper one in due time]
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