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.”
"My name is Strom Silversmith stranger" he speaks in a low gruff voice, keeping a watchful eye on the old crone. It never hurts to keeps one's eyes on a stranger in a dim and run down town like this.
"I have sculpted stone and iron since I was young and now seek out the guilds in the Grand Kingdom of Urguan to further hone my skills so that one day I may be renown as one of the greatest artificers known to Dwarven kind" he speaks in a quiet solemn voice with steely resolve in his bright glowing eyes. He clenchs his fists and seems to stare off into the flames of the suspended candles, almost as if he was reafirming his resolve within his mind.
"Now tell me" he speaks in a gruff tone, moving closer to the old crone as a tenseful atmosphere falls over the two of them in the tattered tent.
"In which direction does the Kingdom of Urguan lay from this town?"
