Ingram began his journey in a very distant land whose name is only known to the ancients, as a carpenter of some renown. His creations with wood allowed him to pursue a comfortable lifestyle with his family. All was well until a house fire claimed the entirety of his family. The witch who started the fire also cursed Ingram with a peculiar long-lasting curse, turning his skin black as the void, and his eyes a softly glowing yellow. Since then, he has travelled the lands in search of a new life, and some way to get rid of this weird ass curse. Eventually he would stumble into the world of lord of the craft.
The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”
Ingram stops suddenly and sharply in his tracks to give the stranger a concerned look. "Uhh... Who are you, and why have you been expecting me?" his posture shifts to a more guarded position, thoroughly inspecting the hag. " I spoke not a word of my travels to anyone, be you a WITCH?" clearly his past fears have crept back into his mind. He steps closer, visibly more agitated. "I have but a morsel of tolerance for witchcraft, rag lady. State your business with me or be gone from my sight.
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