Background.
My charactar is called Balkhkaddâ. Born into a family of skilled miners, he spent his early years delving deep into the earth, seeking precious metals and gemstones alongside his parents and siblings. But tragedy struck when orcs invaded their mines, forcing them out into the perilous world above.
During the chaos of the attack, Strong Head lost his mother and sister, their lives taken by the merciless orcs. The loss left a deep scar on Strong Head's heart, fueling his hatred for the creatures that had destroyed his family. Refusing to abandon his underground home entirely, Strong Head remained fiercely loyal to the dwarven way of life. Though he occasionally ventured to the surface for supplies, he harbored a deep-seated distrust of anything beyond the familiar depths of the mines.
One fateful day, while reluctantly journeying above ground, Strong Head found himself ambushed by orcs once again. The encounter reinforced his resolve to protect his underground domain at all costs, strengthening his determination to ensure that his family's tragedy would not be in vain.
With a heavy heart and an axe in hand, Strong Head vowed to defend his kin and his home against any threat that dared to intrude upon their underground realm.
Balkhkadda, entered the dimly lit tent cautiously, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. The smell of damp wood and moss hung heavy in the air, reminding him of the underground tunnels he had once called home. As he stepped further into the tent, the flickering candlelight revealed the figure of an old hag seated at the back.
Her gaze bore into him, and Balkhkadda felt a shiver run down his spine as she spoke. "What brings you to this dingy town?" Her voice was raspy, carrying the weight of years of wisdom and experience. "Ah, it's you. I've been expecting you. Sit."
Strong Head hesitated for a moment before complying, settling onto the offered cushion with a heavy sigh. The old hag's eyes seemed to pierce through his soul as she gestured for him to begin his tale.
Taking a deep breath, Strong Head started recounting his story, his voice rough with emotion. He spoke of his family's legacy as skilled miners, of the tragedy that had befallen them at the hands of orcs, and of his unwavering determination to protect his underground home.
As he spoke, the old hag listened intently, nodding occasionally as if she already knew the tale he was telling. When he finished, there was a moment of silence as she seemed to ponder his words.
"You carry a heavy burden, Balkhkaddâ," she finally spoke, her voice low and solemn. "But know this: your journey is not yet over. There are forces at work in this world far beyond your understanding, and you have a role to play in the events to come.
Balkhkaddâ felt a surge of apprehension and curiosity at the hag's words. He leaned forward, his gaze locked with hers, seeking answers amidst the shadows of the tent.
"What role?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him.
The old hag's lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "That is for you to discover," she replied cryptically. "But heed my warning, Balkhkaddâ. The path ahead will be fraught with peril, and the choices you make will shape the fate of not only your people but of all who dwell in this land."
With a sense of urgency burning in his chest, Balkhkaddâ rose from the cushion, his mind buzzing with questions and determination. He thanked the old hag for her guidance and stepped out of the tent, the cool night air washing over him like a benediction.
As he made his way through the dimly lit streets of the town, Balkhkaddâ felt a sense of purpose stirring within him. The old hag's words echoed in his mind, urging him forward on his quest to protect his kin and reclaim his home from the clutches of darkness.
