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.” “Hello friend! The name is, err, Photanton!”
Photanton nods friendly and sits down.
“Have ye heard of the mountain dwarves? aye?” “Well thats where my roots lie!” “I'm but a simple dwarf you see.” “Lived my life in the mountains, all i did was smithing and mining!”
Cracks his knuckles. “I always hungered for some adventure, the ahum mountains didnt keep me satisfied.” “Still am a healthy dwarf though! Just like shiny things and fighting like any other.”
Photanton sighs happily “Now i am travelling around, selling my precious items and perhaps if u are in need a sword to clear business!”
