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?))
He murmured something to himself, sitting suspiciously on the gestured seat. It was clear from this moment he wasn’t exactly all there. “What’s it to ya, hm? Are you CONSPIRING AGAINST ME? You’ve come to get me caught, well I won’t admit a THING, buddy.” He said and looked around as if to scan the area. After he determined the area was safe, he relaxed a little, his suspicions not dismissed. He digressed. “I’m looking for my subjects. As the king of cows, my loyal servants are my TOP priority, and they ran into this stinky swamp. No offense.” He murmured the latter half, not one to admit fault. There was no doubt about it now, he’s definitely crazy, thinking he rules over all cows.
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