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?))
Bromli Midbeard scowled at the old hag, his brows furrowed in a perpetual grimace. "Expectin' me, are ye? Fine. I'm here 'cause fate seems to think I need a dose of misery in this wretched swamp. Got questions, and I've heard you might have answers. Don't think this means I'm happy about it, though."
Hag: "Tell me your tale, then. Why do you carry such bitterness, dwarf?"
Bromli : "Me story ain't a cheerful one, and it's got more twists and turns than this blasted town. I wasn't born into any grand clan, no. My kin were wanderers, nomads scraping a living from the harsh landscapes. But fate has a way of weaving threads, and I found myself drawn to the dark paths."
Bromli: "Wandered the tunnels alone, I did. until I found a dark dwarf talking of tales of power and respect, dealing in forbidden arts and ancient runes. He embraced the shadows, and told me their ways before disappearing deeper into the tunnels, and with my curiosity peaked I now search for more Dark Dwarves to learn their ways. I one day hope to cross paths with such a dark dwarf that impacted me."
Hag: "And why seek me?"
Bromli: "With my iron will to find the dark dwarves. I left the tunnels, which I stumbled my way here wandering. And here I am, swamp hag, in your miserable tent, seeking answers from someone who deals in shadows and fate. Now spit out what ye know before I decide I've had enough of this game."
The dark dwarf's eyes flashed with a fiery intensity as he awaited the hag's response.
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