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?))
Pausing briefly, I remove a string with bones and other bits of bodily parts tied on from a pouch and hand it to the hag, "For the spirits" I murmur half heartedly. Finding a seat on the ground and settling I say, "then you know why I have come... The spirits, they have not been happy with my village. I seek a skilled shaman in hopes they can uncover the cause of the spirits unrest. Our speaker is but an apprentice and knows very little of shamanism."
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