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?))
"I do believe that you are mistaken, but very well. I shall tell you my story," Torvin's eyes drift down towards his hands as he fidgets with his rings. He continues in a stern yet soft voice, "From a young age I was fascinated by forging, I would make something new everyday out of scraps my father disposed of as he also was a blacksmith. We were poor, and so I tried to find joy in the smallest things." Torvin's eyes start to shake and so he closes them to hide that fact, "My father got really ill one day, and..." Torvin begins to breath slowly and hard, "well, they couldn't cure him in time. From then on I swore to continue my fathers legacy, even though I have had to do it alone."
