Tastyasia

There was a time, years ago that I wanted to mean something to my people. Years of learning from legends of old and it came to shame. All I ever wanted was to build and recover lost dwarven techniques in the mountains. For a time, I was on my path to understanding the former glory of my ancestors. Years and years of training and I threw it all away. Alas, in my youth and hubris, I was too greedy and horded my knowledge. When the leaders from the mountains finally saw what I was doing and my youth along with it, they gave me a choice. To leave and find my way and what being a true dwarf builder means, or to go to prison and work in the pits. So, I took to the sea and here I am. On the shores of this wonderful world. I see so much potential. The mountains are calling to be formed and reshaped into great caverns for all my brothers and sisters to come. The smell of the rock and water. In that I shall use my knowledge and skill to bring honor back to my name of Sherwood. All races are welcome. One thing I have learned in my brief adventure, you cant go to far on your own.... Maybe that was what the leaders of my people were getting at.

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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: I have come to re build my lost home of Mustafar. "Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…