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?)) Example: "Well I was diggin right?" The dwarf says as he sits down. "And a rock fell on me head. Woke up shorter and took a walk and ere i am!" He chucked a little at his own joke. "Nah, just kiddin. I was always short, but a rock did fall on me head. Anyways. Names Thradmolin, Thradmolin Hawclike. I grew up in the mountains north of ere. Didn't have my dad since he died in a battle with the Elves..." He pauses for a minute and stares off into the distance with a somewhat angry look on his face. "But I had me uncle Khusdaem around as well as me mum and brother Hartodun." He says as he perks back up again with a smile on his face. "I live a simple life. I farm and hunt and mine and drink. Occasionally if I find me a good band full of some lovely blokes ill join them on whatever adventure they happen to go on. Never gotten married or fallen in love before. Had a good friend of mine die because he fell too deeply into it. Love. It'll kill ya. Anyways, I'm sure your not asking me to tell a story about some boring old life of a mountain dwarf havin a steady and easy time. I'm sure you want to hear alllll the hardship and alllll the battles I've fought and alllll the neat and exciting things I do." He stops for a minute seeming to expect an answer but the old woman just stares at him. "Well I do have one story. When I travelled to the deserts and thought on living there for a bit. As a mountain dwarf who's used to the cold that was bloody painful and f**kin hot. I made a good friend there in the village I stayed in. iLlama al-Masri. Great bloke. Taught me how to live in the desert and survive its dangers. I stayed with him in his home for several years in that village, Badashahar I believe it was called. iLlama actually ran for the mayor of the town, unfortunately he was kicked out due to a nasty siege by some goblins." His tone deepens as he starts talking a little slower. "Was the only reason I left the place to begin with. The people in the town were all either enslaved or murdered. I decided to be a coward and run. I regret that to this day." He pauses, takes a couple breaths and sighs before he looks back at the old lady with a smile and begins to speak again in a happy more upbeat tone. "After Badashahar, I returned to the mountains I came from. My people welcomed me, I saw some new folks there as well. They were Elves... Nasty people. Always so pRoPeR and sh**, believing their always better than us. Anyways it wasn't long before those Elves left, probably couldn't stand the freezing cold and going more than a day without their silk sheets." He laughed at his own joke again for a minute while the old lady sat in silence, probably thinking he's an idiot. "I remained in town for another couple years until roughly now. I wanted to go on another adventure and hope to meet another iLlama and find another Badashahar for me. I did what I did last time and just spun my ax and whichever way the blade pointed, I walked. It's been a couple days and this is me first time seeing any kind of civilization. I hope you don't mind if i can stay somewhere in this lovely, quaint little village you live in?"