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?))
"... It is surprising that you would be expecting me, Elder. I have been quiet in my travels here. Do you have the Sight that needs no eye?" I reach into the breast-pocket of my long, spider-webbed robe, and withdraw a purple kerchief, unwrapping the artifact I have sworn to deliver.

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