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?))
*sits down with a bit of a curious look, but shrugs it off and starts*
Well, ehm, from where do i start, i-i am Carvion, i come from a humble family of Wood elfs from the deeps of the woodland realm, with a rare atonement for blacksmithing, as both my mother and father worked on making weapons and armor for the elfs of the city, even tho it isn't the most common over there the work of my family was extraordinary for times of war, and as to be expected i took the talent from both my parents for the manipulation of metals.
Uppon growing up i spent a lot of time in the forge alongside my father, and quickly developed a neiche interest in blacksmithing, one day when i was just 16 years old during a time my father wasn't working for a few days due to a little sickness i snucked up on the forge and tried to make a weapon by myself, he had teached me some basics, even tho that would not be what someone normal would consider enough to make a weapon by himself, but i was different, trough so many years of observing my father i picked up on all the little details and things he would do to make his weapons some of the best in the realm, and so i started my work, i took all day and all night, the flames scorched my skin as i started to feel sleepy, but i did it, i managed to finish a weapon, but, something didn't feel right, it felt like it wasn't my work but just my fathers work made by me.
When father recovered and went back to the forge he saw the weapon, a tiny sword made to acomodate for a 16 year old, he knew that i had done it, at first he reprended me, but soon the reprension turned into praise as he saw that the quality of it. Even then i didn't felt it just right, and then it fell on me.
I made a trip to the mountains where with nothing but a pickaxe i started mining all that i saw could be of use, with each hit his muscles soring a little more, i took enough metals for 15 different swords, carrying it with a little cart, during the night i snuck up yet again in to the forge, now determined to do a work that would satisfy me, as i started smelting all the iron my mind was racing, using all of it just to reach his true joy, i spent all night just forging the sword, until sunrise, where after the last few hammer hits it was done, when my father entered the forge he saw me holding the sword high, just to then pass out.
When he woke me up i understood, that what trully bringed me joy was forging weapons from my own work, and like that many years passed, each time perfecting my gathering and blacksmithing, to the point where i managed to surpass my father.
Now at 24 y/o i have become a very enegetic man, focussed mostly on my forging works, and sometimes very dispersed mentally, and i have started to come out more out of woodlands as i have started to look form more metals and materials to bring the best out of both nature's grasp and the fire of the forge, as well as develop some of my more... neiche interests.
Wait a second you said you were waiting for me? Who are you, oh god did i really just tell my story to someone who just asked me out of nowhere? "Damn i am really not there mentally sometimes" I-I have to go. *stands up and gets out of the tent in a hurry*
