Thomas awoke with a start, the all too familiar nightmare of his home burning still fresh in his mind. He had long lost track of how many winters had passed since then, and no longer had many people who remembered who he truly was. The adventurer's guild who had taken him in had given him some gold and a map of the local area, but Thomas had no wish to stay close to where his whole world had been ripped from him. As he stood and looked over the valley, taking note of a small village in the distance, his plate armor groaned, a recent run in with an owlbear doing quite the number on the decaying metal. It was time to see the blacksmith again, the closest thing Thomas had to a friend in the area, as she too was shunned by locals, who only accepted her when her superior metalworking skills were needed. Thomas had no such qualms, nor room to judge, given that if he hadn't kept his helm, he would be hunted down as an undead monster. So, he shouldered his pack, checking that his shield and sword were secure in their holsters on his back and hip, and headed off to the small stone shack just a bit south of the village.
Morga'tha had gone by many names over the centuries, but she introduced herself as Morgan, in an attempt to make customers more comfortable with her. The horns and ruby red skin were not a big help with this, as anyone could tell she was a tiefling. She had no intentions of murder or seduction though, as that had grown quite boring after the first millennia in the plane she called home. So, she struck a deal with the local king. She would provide him some of the finest armor and weapons for his personal guard, and he would have her word that no one would lead any purges or mobs to banish her from this plane. This did not stop locals from giving her dirty looks and calling her names though. But there were a few customers who were quite grateful for her services, and as the bell above the door rang, she looked up to see one of those very people walk in the door. "Thomas!" she exclaimed, setting the sword she had been working on into a nearby water bucket. "Feels like I haven't seen you in ages darling come in! I have some coffee warming up if you'd like?" Thomas shook his head "You know I can't accept gifts from someone who already does so much for me Morgan. "Aye, you are a strange one Thomas. I must say though, can't say I've seen that face of yours before, is there something you're hiding from me?" Thomas had grown used to this line of questioning, as she only asked him every time he was in. "No no, just ugly as a mule's rear and I'd rather not curse your eyes with that sight." Morgan flashed a smile at that, before taking note of the state of his armor and especially his helm. "Tsk tsk tsk" she tutted "Thomas if you took care of your armor as much as you preached of never taking it off, I'd be flat out broke! Let me take that helm off, that dent must be drilling a hole into your head something awful." Thomas quickly stood, backing a step away. "No, it's fine!" he snapped at her "I can barely tell, honest." He said, trying to smooth over his outburst. Morgan shook her head, stepping directly in front of the door to the forge, before saying "Well ya aren't leaving until I fix it, so sit your behind down and let me see!" Thomas panicked, knowing that if this happened his secret would be out, and he'd have to move to a whole nother region AGAIN. But he knew Morgan too well, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. "Fine" he sighed, "just, don't freak out, okay?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at that, as Thomas began to raise his helm off his head....
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