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.”
((How do you respond?))
Dandriel nods his head at the woman and takes a seat on the cushion. He speaks in a tired voice with a noticeable accent. "Oim not sure how ye know who Oi am, but Oi'll tell ye my stoery." Dandriel takes a deep breath and begins. "Oi rode 'ere from a realm far away. t'was a place of wonder, war and civilization. I miss et dearly. Oi came there 'idden in a wagon after me parents were killed in a battle Oi din' remember, I servoived off o' scavenging and roaming. Oi eventually set'led in a human kingdom as a 'umble farmer, but Oi grew tired of human conflict and mad eme way teh the Dwarven kingdom to be with my bretheren. Back then, Oi was still Dandriel Gregland (Me father's name), but I was soon welcomed int'the Steelcog clan, and a Steelcog Oi became. My kingdom survived many a conflict, but eventually the realm started teh..." Dandriel ponders, staring into the distance. "The realm started teh... fade. People began disappearin', or leavin' for other lands. War scourged the kingdoms and moi home became a shadow of it's former self. 'ventually Oi couldn't stay there. I left, and me travels have brought me here." Finishing his story, Dandriel stretches his arms and settles a little. He speaks again. "So, old woman. Tell me how you'ave heard of me?"
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