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?))
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until… Dakota would then sit down on the cushion and would start to explain her backstory to the woman. ``I lived with my father up until I was 16 and found out he had passed away from old age a few weeks after, I lived on a small farm with him up until I turned 16 when he asked me to live on my own. I was confused on why he would ask me to live on my own at the time.`` Dakota would say as tears started to fill her eyes. She then continued, ``I stayed with my cousin until I found out of my father's passing.`` She confessed as she wiped her tears away.
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