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?))
Fulfgar grumbled as he stepped through the swampy landscape. His boots squishing the mud underneath with an unplesant "Squealch" that made the Dwarf grimace. He always disliked the surface, but swamps?... Oh he could do a lifetime without seeing another one again, you couldn't mine, you couldn't farm, and what little iron you could find in the bogs was downright unworthy to be a chamberpot!... He would be very happy once out of this muck. He would barely have to duck under the tent fold as he saw the strange, old hag, his eyebrow raising a bit as he was addressed.
"Expecting me?... I hardly doubt you would even know of me, lest you sought the goldhand clan for a beardling that has yet to undergo his trials..." he looks to the cushion, simply waving his hand to indicate a polite refusal for a seat, instead digging into a hip pouch and revealing a small stone pipe. Bringing it to his lips and sprinkling in the brown trimmings of cured smoking leaves, an eyebrow raised as though asking for permission to smoke here, or perhaps asking for a light. If allowed to, he'd eventually light the leaves in the pipe and take a small drag to start the embers properly, blowing the smoke away from the hag.
"So, you want to know my story?... I've always heard its dangerous to give people your true name, let alone your entire life's story... But if it gets me out of this swamp..." he clears his throat after another puff on the pipe to keep the leaves burning.
"I'm of the Goldhand Clan, as I previously mentioned, and what drove me to leave the halls of Kal'Baraz to come out here is past my understanding. Though i expect you had something to do with it... I fancy myself a merchant, craftsman, and spelunker. I've never favored combat, but i could do what I need to defend myself... My father was rather successful merchant, and my mother was a rather handy alchemist and gardener. I grew up learning the trade of coin from my father and the brewing of potions and growing of plants from my mother. However, I also apprenticed plenty under other clanmates to learn the various trades. I figure if I am to make my own way through life, I should learn all I can to make myself useful. Otherwise how am I to ever make a proper amount of coin?... Speaking of coin, I am currently undergoing the Trial of Merchantilism, I have a long way to go to prove myself a true Goldhand... Other than this all?... I haven't done too much yet... Merely learning, training, and getting myself as ready as I can be for these trials..."
