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.”
My name is Holman Whitfoot, and I am a halfling. I started to grow quite tired of isolation, so I ventured off, came here. There's not much too it, I'm just an average guy, really. I do have a liking for Atronach Forging, though. I.... Want to..... be an Atronach Forger. But i don't know if I would ever make it. Heh, I might never come near it. I got really good grades in my school days, so that might be a plus. You really never know.
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