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?)) As Ivor walks through the tattered tent, his footsteps sound with a heavy thump. He then sits on the cushion that crone pointed to, then he lays his hands on the small makeshift table and looks at the old crone. "So you've been expectin me eh? Well no wonder given nature of you profession. I'm more surprised that you don't know me story already but no matter, that was a long journey, haven't spoken to any soul for ages and I'm glad to chat for awhile. For starters me name is Ivor Dura, I come from the proud clan of Dura, a clan of smiths, finest in the land of course. When I was but a wee lad I spent my time like every dwarf, in the mines, digging jewels and precious metals, later I was taken into my clan halls as an apprentice smith learning techniques and secrets of craft. Now however I've been let go to make a name for myself in greater world and to make me craft known throughout the lands.
So now you know me story allow me to ask the question. What fortune has in store for me?"
