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?))
Harold Bearbaker stepped back in shock as he was startled by the old hag. "You must be mistaken woman! I've never seen you before in all my life." The old hag chuckles and repeats her question. "Tell me your story." Harold Bearbaker looked at the hag with suspicion in his gaze. "That's really all you want from me? Just my story?" said Harold. The old hag nodded her head and smiled showing a mouth of rotten yellow teeth. "Well there really isn't much to say i'm afraid." continued Harold. "I'm not some foreign royal or knight nor a wealthy merchant. I'm a rogue craftsman looking for work and fro permanent residence. My talent for smithing and forging is immense but I have yet to find a worthy settlement to share my craft with. My name is Harold. Harold Bearbaker. You will remember that name. I will be the greatest craftsman this land has ever known." Harold closed his eyes as if he was fantasizing about the future. "I will finally find purpose in this mystery of life..." The old hag chuckled once more. "Quite ambitious you are Harold." She stood up and looked Harold dead in his eyes. "I will remember you. I remember everyone." Harold was a bit frightened of the woman and he politely excused himself and exited the old hag's tent.
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