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?))
As Elysia cautiously makes her way inside, the dim glow of the suspended candles cast eerie shadows across the tattered tent. She shifts her gaze to eye the crone, the air thick with anticipation as well as the heavy scent of rotted wood and wet moss - as if the very essence of a swamp had seeped into every nook and cranny of this mysterious town. She's been expecting me? Elysia’s eyebrows furrow with confusion, shivers running down her spine. "I've.." She hesitates, her breath unstable, unsure of whether to extend her knowledge onto the eerie stranger who appeared before her. "..heard tales of this place. Whispers of secrets and ancient knowledge." The old hag's gaze is focused on her, her eyes glinting with curiousity. "I've come seeking answers, seeking the wisdom that is said to reside in the heart of this murky realm." Elysia continues, voice barely above a murmur as she carefully sits cross-legged on the cushion below, hands anxiously clasped in her lap.
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