You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You 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?))
Roselin blinks in confusion, momentarily taken aback by the hag's claim. "Me? Expecting me?" She stammers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, I just stumbled upon this town by chance, really. I don't think anyone would be expecting someone like me."
She hesitantly lowers herself onto the cushion, her gaze shifting nervously. "Well, there's not much to tell, honestly. I'm just a wanderer, trying to find some work, and... um... well, not really sure what I'm looking for, to be honest."
She scratches her head, struggling to find the right words. "I guess you could say I'm on a journey of self-discovery or something like that. But, uh, it's all a bit hazy, you know? I'm just taking it one step at a time, hoping to stumble upon some meaning along the way."
Roselin glances at the old woman, her expression reflecting her uncertainty. "So, yeah, that's about it. Not much of a story, really. Sorry if I disappoint."
She shifts uncomfortably on the cushion, awaiting the woman's response, unsure of what to make of her claim or how to navigate this unexpected encounter.