CONTINUEFrom an early age, you toiled in the ways of metal. Shaping it, breaking it, shaping it again. It was not your talent, but with time came skill. Your childhood passed, and it came time for you to make your way in the world. Still young, you left your home to strike out for elsewhere, and smith what needs smithing. You were so unsure of your path then.
You arrived at the end of your first journey, ready to settle into your new life. But it was not to be. Barely having arrived, disaster struck.
They came from nowhere. A ramshackle force, but their numbers were great, far more than the fort's stalwart defenders, taken unexpectedly. They fought hard, but they were too few, and too unprepared. Everything was chaos, people fled and died all around, but the enemy came in deeper, trapping them in their own tunnels. From the mess you seized a pickaxe, found a shield. You wandered frantically through the halls, looking for a clear exit, but you knew not the way.
With only one way out, you carved a path to your escape.
You know not how, but you fought your way back to the entrance. By then the enemy was all inside, all behind you now, your path out was clear. You left with screams at your back, everyone within perishing to the invaders, but you were alive. You knew then that you were a survivor, not one to fail in the face of death.
Ever since, you have been wandering. You know, somehow, this was meant for you. In your wanderings, you have found many fights and grown as a warrior. But for these past years, you have not wandered aimlessly. For years, you have traveled for something. You feel something calling you. Always calling.
Calling you...
...To this place.